The Daemon Wars
by Lady Librarian
Summary: Suliman once said that the best of intentions can cause the worst of tragedies. The Wallmaker's Family finds out just how true that can be. Join the cast of Howl's Moving Castle once more in Part IV of the Wallmaker Saga.
1. Chapter 1: The Broken Door

Hello everyone!

This is the first chapter of the fourth part of the Wallmaker Series. I recommend you read the first part, _Beyond the Indigo Veil_, and the second part, _Children of the _Stars, and the third part, _Twilight Doom_, before reading the following story.

I just want to take a moment and thank Cromson Neko Lady Inu for drawing the awesome picture of Markl! He's so cute! Oh, what a lovely drawing!

Thanks again for reading!

Lady Librarian

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**The Daemon Wars: Part IV of the Wallmaker Saga**

**Chapter 1: Broken Door**

Ice rained down on the occupants of the shield room as the surface to which it clung ceased to be solid.

"You need to leave!" Theresa spoke to Markl in a fierce quiet voice as they watched Sophie scrambled in the rapidly melting snow to her daughter's side. Martha took a few steps after her sister, a mixture of revulsion and horror plain on her face.

"But…" Markl's face was twisted with dismay as he gazed upwards at the fading barrier, wiping the melting snow from his face.

"Sophie!" The red-haired girl recognized Howl's voice as the Wallmaker came charging through the sleet.

A glowing point of fire came darting after him, fluttering about the silver sorceress and the lanky man. The tall wizard dropped to his knees next to his wife and their fallen daughter. But their voices was drowned out as a fleet of flying kayaks buzzed the shattered shell of the shield room, soldiers in red and blue uniforms showing clearly against the bright sky on the flying contraptions. Apparently the Ingarian Army had not gone so far as to remain out of reach of the capital. The regiments in the sky were greeted in the air by the survivors of the crimson flock of the Ingarian Wizard Guard. The small crafts began landing in any available space as crowds of soldiers with guns began clambering through the rubble.

A swirling wind tore through the area as a great airship loomed low over the building. The bristle bearded emperor gave a great whoop that was audible even over the roaring gale and began waiving wildly. The young herbalist cast her eyes towards King Ferdinand, who was currently jabbing his finger in the direction of the half-daemon. His face was absolutely livid and he was yelling heatedly at Peoter and Dieter, who were trying to placate their king. In the distance there were cries and shouts of mix horror and jubilation as the witches and wizards realized they were alive and their foe had disappeared, but at the cost of the shield.

"Get up, Markl!" Theresa dragged the young wizard to his feet and pushed him toward his family, "You need to get Calcifer and Drie out of here now!"

"What?" The young wizard was grey faced with exhaustion and could barely keep his feet.

"People are stupid when they're scared, Markl," The red-haired girl's voice took on a shrill note. She regarded the guns the soldiers carried, obviously remembering something unpleasant from her past. But she continued in her level headed way, "Do you think anyone is going to take time to think about the fact that there are good spirits and bad spirits? Or are they just going to see monsters and ask questions later?"

The freckle-faced girl dragged him through the snow past Martha as she spoke, bringing him to where his parents were. Deirdre had half roused and Howl had gathered her into his arms as he stood. Casting his wild blue eyes about in the pandemonium that had broke out once more. The silver sorceress stood and held onto both her daughter and husband. The child-woman had buried her face under her father's chin and was clinging to him as would any human. Theresa took a moment to marvel over the fact that looks could be deceiving. But what difference did it make? Was it so important that Markl's sister was a daemon? Howl's best friend Calcifer was a daemon too, and no one seemed fazed by that.

It didn't matter to Theresa; family was family as far as she was concerned.

"Hey kid! Glad to see you're okay," Calcifer crackled in his nonchalant manner as she approached with the Wallmaker's apprentice in toe.

"My _name_ is Theresa, Calcifer," she grinned at the fire daemon and crossed her eyes at him. The living flame colored a pink red and flashed her a toothy reply.

"Your pardon for speaking out of turn, Master Howl, but you should leave as quickly as possible," the red-haired herbalist's apprentice spoke briskly as she pushed Markl forward.

The raven-haired man blinked and regarded the young hearl as though she had materialized from thin air. He nodded wordlessly and cast his eyes about as though he were at a loss for what to do. Theresa dragged Suliman's stick out of the melting snow nearby and held it out to Markl. The russet haired boy stared at her as though she were holding a poisonous snake. Sophie came forward with a strange look in her eyes and took a hold of both her son and the magic staff.

The herbalist's apprentice clutched at her hoe and stared at the crowded sky overhead, frowning dourly, "I would tell you to fly. But I don't think it's a good idea."

"It's alright, we'll be fine," Sophie spoke decisively as she gripped the twisted staff in her hands. But the silver witch's face was pale and twisted with anguish as she cast her eyes over head at the bare sky.

"What about you?" Markl asked with concern as he suddenly came to his senses. But Theresa was already looking over her shoulder to where Martha had snagged two soldiers, one of which had a medic bag. The uniformed men had snapped to attention under the authoritative manner of the herbalist and the red wizard's wife was already giving orders.

"We need to tend to the injured," The young healer replied. But she suddenly turned the full fierceness of her attention on the Wallmaker. "What should I tell them about the big monster?"

"Gone… For now," was Calcifer's grim reply.

Theresa nodded as she looked at the fire daemon and took a few steps back. But Howl sought the young girl's green eyes and spoke in a conflicted voice, "Tell Barimus I'm sorry."

Theresa nodded just as Sophie struck the ground with Suliman's staff. A portal gathered beneath the feet of the Wallmaker's family like a deep pool of indigo water. Theresa could see tiny stars sparkling in its depths and the gentle wind that escaped from it made every hair on her body stand on end. The freckle-faced girl would never get used to magic, and had no idea how any of them could put up with it all the time. The lot of them sank like a stone into the vastness beneath them. As quickly as the doorway had come, it disappeared, taking the fey wind with it. For a moment all she could do was stare.

But there was work to be done.

Theresa ran to her mistress' side, where the hedge witch was directing the controlled chaos of the robin colored Ingarian soldiers who milled throughout the room. The curly haired girl noted that the majority of them wore white bands on their arms, marked with a large red cross. These must be the medics, and indeed they were. But they had shiny metal bars on their shoulders, probably a mark of high rank. The young healer tugged at the herbalist's hem and the dark-haired woman cast a hard glance at her apprentice. But the young girl knew better than to take offence from Martha's stony demeanor.

"I'm going to look after Master Barimus, mistress," Theresa spoke firmly, knowing her teacher would not object.

The silent woman deftly relieved one of the medics of their supply kit and shoved it into the girls hand by way of reply. With that she pointed wordlessly into the distance and then strode away towards the crumbled stairway, following the medic captains to where the wounded were being kept. The red-haired girl stared after her teacher, taking a dizzy moment to give thanks for the fact that she was still alive. But she was bumped and shoved about as soldiers began shuffling around her. It would have taken the young woman ages to push through the turmoil that filled the broken remnants of the shield room. Instead she tucked her magic hoe beneath her and kicked off the ground into the air.

Climbing to a good vantage point, Theresa stared down at the milling chaos beneath her feet.

The broken glass spire loomed like a great monolith in the middle of the room. She could see the bright colors of the witches and wizards of the council as they were ushered from the shattered chamber by bright points of red. There were many and Theresa was overjoyed to know that so many of the Wizards Guard had survived. Indeed, King Ferdinand was leaving as well, no doubt off to somewhere more accommodating to help plan the reoccupation of the Capital. But cold fear filled the young herbalist's heart as she remembered the look of rage on the emperor's face as he pointed towards the half-daemon earlier.

She did not need a gift of magic to understand it was an ill omen.

But the young girl continued to look for a different shade of red, one she knew that Barimus favored. She found it in the distance, ringed round by a large crowd. Like an arrow, Theresa shot across the turmoil to the fallen royal wizard. Peoter or Deiter, she could never tell the twins apart, was one of the group that surrounded Barimus, who was still struggling to give orders. The other twin must have accompanied the king elsewhere. But the witches and wizard drew back from her as the young healer dropped from the sky.

"Theresa!" Barimus cried weakly and reached for her. But the young healer was half crushed under the press of people that surged back around the red wizard.

"Enough! All of you shove off! Give the Lord Councilor some room!" Theresa shouted as she brandished her hoe and shook it menacingly, making a couple swipes at those who regarded her dubiously.

"I know it's not my place to be yelling at wizards, Master, but they're being aweful rude," The curly haired girl apologized as she took his hand and kneeled at his side as she put down her hoe.

But Barimus laughed weakly and then shivered violently as he lay back against the pile of cloaks on which he rested. Theresa pulled a few more over his upper body and checked the splints on his legs. As she dug around in the medic's pack, the girl took note of the bottle of poppy juice. Pulling more sturdy bandages, she tried to gently fasten the splints more securely. The red wizard made a muffled noise, probably doing his best not to cry out. He had probably shattered his lower shins.

"Do you want something for the pain?" She asked with concern.

"No. No, it's quite alright, dear one. I need to be able to think. But do call me Barimus," The blond man replied, looking faint.

"Yes, Master Barimus," The young healer spoke in brisk distraction as she cast her eyes about the red garbed witches and wizards emblazoned with the Ingarian arms. She was searching for the platinum haired woman with one blue eye and one brown. The captain of the Ingarian Wizards Guard was inseparable from the Lord Councilor. She was both his body guard and his favorite messenger. It was strange that she was not here.

"Where's Captain Cyanine? Shouldn't she be dealing with this lot?"

"She's dead," Barimus choked, hiding his face in his hands. This was a great shock to the young healer and for a moment all she could do was stare. She had liked the young blonde witch very much and all of a sudden she realized she was crying.

"I'm so sorry, Master," she whispered, doing her best to console her mistress' husband. But their circumstances would not let the Royal Wizard or any of them grieve.

"Lord Councilor, the barrier is down! What about the daemons?" A frazzled voice called from somewhere in the crowd. They began to press in on them again.

"Oi! Get back!" She snapped angrily and poked at a few with her hoe, ignoring the wetness on her cheeks.

One of the twins was doing his best to keep them back, giving order and directions as best he could. He was close enough to touch, so the young healer reached out and pulled on his pants leg.

"Peoter?" The girl called hopefully and the copper haired man looked down at her with attentive green eyes.

"Deiter, little mistress," He replied with a grin.

"For the sake of the master, I'm delegating power. You're the new Captain, okay? So get this lot out of here! But save me two or three because I need to get Lord Barimus someplace safe. The Wallmaker said that the big monster is gone, but the little ones might still be around. You should go look for them, right?"

"Yes, little mistress," The wizard bowed to her with sincere reverence. She couldn't help but blush.

"My _name_ is Theresa," she half mumbled as the new Captain of the Wizard's guard began shouting at the crowd.

"Where's Howl?" Barimus asked hopefully through the cracks in his fingers, no doubt ashamed to have his inner grief exposed for all to see.

"He had to go. But he sent the big monster away. He told me to tell you he's sorry."

"That idiot," The red wizard laughed softly, dashing the tears from his eyes as he tried to sit up again and his face twisted with pain, "He has nothing to apologize for."

"Stay down, master Barimus. You shouldn't move," Theresa pressed gently on his shoulder, then placed a hand on his forehead and noted with a stab of fear that he was burning up. The ice must have given him a chill.

"What's Peoter yelling about?"

"You mean Deiter?" Theresa replied as she fished around in the medic bag for the brown bottle.

"Don't listen to that rat; the twins like to play games," the Lord Councilor replied as he struggled against her hand. The young healer did not like how pale his face was, nor did she find the brightness of his eyes assuring. If he kept this up he would kill himself out of sheer exhaustion.

"That's Peoter!" Barimus replied, "You can tell them apart by their freckles." Thresea might have laughed if she weren't so worried about her mistress' husband.

"Drink this, Master Barimus. Just a sip, okay? It's really strong," the red-haired girl held out the bottle of poppy juice to him.

"What is it?" The handsome blond man asked in distraction as he craned his neck to watch the red wizards disperse, "Where are they going? Where's Martha?"

"It's brandy, Lord Barimus," the red-haired girl lied smoothly and half supported him up as she held the bottle to his lips.

"Now that's my kind of medicine," He laughed half hysterically and took a swig. Theresa snatched it away from him before he could drink too much. It didn't take long and Barimus collapsed back against the cloaks, his warm brown eyes glazing over.

"Woo," He murmured weakly, "Remind me later I don't like brandy."

With that Barimus passed out. Theresa covered him and carefully monitored his temperature. She scooping up the remnants of some near by snow, she wrapped it in her handkerchief to cool the Lord Councilor's forehead. It wasn't long before two red garbed wizards came her way carrying a gurney between them.

xXx

This time Howl knew it wasn't a dream.

Sophie lay tucked into the crook of his arm, her warm back pressed against his chest. But the silver sorceress was real beneath his hands, and he had no fear that she would disappear. Together they nestled in the mound of pillows that bedecked their bed, covered in a thin quilt the brown-eyed woman had made for them over the winter. Warm and absolutely content, the wizard listened to the soft sound of his sleeping wife, smiling in spite of the fact that he could not sleep. Every so often she would half mumble something and then give a gentle sigh. He smoothed her hair more for the sake of the act rather than to tame the silver mane that tangled about the witch's face.

Howl found it amusing that Sophie refused to wear her hair down during the day, and yet she could not stand to have it bound up in its customary braid while she slept. Turning his blue eyes to the large picture window that slanted at an angle into the ceiling over their bed, the Wallmaker noted the warming night sky. Normally Sophie would have been wide awake by this hour; but she was still exhausted from her time beyond the indigo veil. The raven-haired man would have gladly remain absolutely motionless and let his wife sleep away the entire day in his arms. But there was no guarantee that any moment of peace would last. Nor was there any assurance that his family's trial was at an end.

It had been two days; although it felt like ages.

He was not looking forward to going into Kingsbury today. No one had requested his presence, nor had Barimus sent him a letter asking him to come. Regardless, the Wallmaker would go to the Ingarian capital; an anxious feeling in the back of his mind told him he must. What little communication he had with the Kingsbury was from a foot soldier, who delivered a scribbled note from Martha. There was not much news in its few words. Barimus had not fared well in the Daemon Queen's assault on the Royal Palace and Howl was terribly worried for his brother.

But the raven haired man was drawn from his thoughts as he heard a door open and shut in the hallway. In the distance another door clicked open and closed with careful slowness. A pair of soft footsteps approached until they stopped right in front of his door. The wizard grinned as he realized his wife would not be allowed to sleep much longer, although hers would not be a rude awakening. The door clicked open softly and the feet approached. Howl quickly pretended to be asleep, making a great show of snoring softly, throwing the back of his free hand against his forehead dramatically. Someone giggled, and the Wallmaker peeked open an eye and gazed slyly at the twin pair of blue eyes that regarded him over the edge of his bed.

His son and daughter were like mirror opposites in both size and coloring. Akarshan's hair was as black as Howl's. But the six year old boy was tiny compared to his silver haired sister. Deirdre was so tall her father could barely tuck her head under his chin. However, their eyes were the same deep sapphire blue that his mother's had been. It was hard to remember that they were the same age, in spite of appearances. It was an amazing thing, having his daughter back. It was as though she had never been lost to them and the Wallmaker could not image life without her.

But all was not well.

Heen was absolutely terrified of the silver haired child-woman; he hid from her whenever she entered the room. Calcifer was not afraid of her per say, but the living flame did not seem to be at ease in her presence. Markl was distant as well. It was probably because of what they could see with their other senses. But it would take some time for the family to adjust, both he and Sophie included. The only ones who weren't fazed in the slightest were Akarshan and Granny Witch. Howl's youngest son had accepted his sister for exactly who she was the moment he saw her. The faded old woman threw a fit over the tall child-woman. It had barely been three days and former witch of the wastes had knitted the girl two hats! She showered her with kisses and nattered over her exclaiming endlessly, "Oh, what a dear, dear, little Drie."

But Howl was again drawn from his thoughts by the sound of his youngest son's voice.

"He's not sleeping, Drie. His hair's not messy enough," Shan whispered to his sister, who was kneeling next to him. Her eyes were so crinkled with glee she could barely see as she giggled again.

"You're faking, aren't you papa?" Drie asked quietly as she straightened, half towering over the wizard and his soundly sleeping wife.

Howl still experienced a bit of a shock when his daughter stood to her full height. Sometimes it was difficult to reconcile what he saw with his inner eye and the tall woman that showed before his mortal senses. But she was his child, regardless of what form she took. A smirk colored her face with rosy glee as the child-woman played with the ends of her two long plaits. The lanky girl bent from the hip and carefully lowered her face toward her father's, tickling his nose with the end of her braid. Howl couldn't help but grin, which made it difficult for the man to blow playfully at the offending tress. Shan began to giggle as well as Drie continued to torment her father, who moved his dramatically placed hand to bat at his daughter's hair.

"You're going to wake your mother," Howl grinned softly, finally giving up his ruse.

"Help me up, Drie?" Shan asked as he reached his arms to his sister as she straightened.

Howl lifted the quilt as the tall girl deposited her brother on the edge of the high bed. His father noted Akarshan was wearing the sapphire necklace. Akarshan never took it off, nor did Deirdre ever take off the blue earrings she was currently wearing. Her brother wiggled under the covers as his twin followed suite. The bed creaked under the weight of all its occupants as Sophie stirred and automatically cuddled Shan to her with one arm as she sought blindly with the other. Drie smiled, snuggling into the pillows as her mother patted at her face. Sophie let out a great sight as she smoothed her daughter's hair.

"Good morning, cherubs," the silver sorceress murmured.

"'Morning, mommy," Shan and Drie chimed simultaneously. Howl chuckled and then yelped softly as his daughter placed her freezing cold feet on his shins.

"Your feet are cold, Deirdre!" Howl gasped as he yanked away his legs from the child-woman's frozen toes.

"But your legs are really warm, papa," she smiled and tugged gently on the covers.

"You're squishing me, Drie! Move over," Shan squeaked plaintively and squirmed against his twin.

"If I move over anymore, I'll fall off, Shan," the silver-haired girl replied with a frown. The silver witch was doing her best to appear like she was resting, although her husband could tell from the small crease between her brows that she was far from sleep.

"I think we need a bigger bed, dear heart," Howl murmured into Sophie's hair before he kissed the crown of wife's head. Sophie replied with another gusty sigh and found her husband's face with her hand. He smiled under her fingers.

"Good morning, horrible Howl," she smiled with her eyes still closed and turned her face to kiss her husband.

"Ewww! No kissing!" Shan squealed as he hid his eyes in the pillow he stole from his mother. Drie couldn't help but laugh as she hid her face behind her hands, although she peeked notoriously. Howl gave his daughter a mischievous cross-eyed look just as Sophie gave another sigh and sat up, trying to extricate herself from her children.

"Time to get up, kids." She replied in a commanding tone. But her order lost all its authority as it transformed into a squeal when Howl seized his wife and dragged her back into bed.

"Get mommy!" The wizard whooped jubilantly as he instigated a completely unprovoked tickling fight.

At first Sophie shrieked and thrashed, although she managed to turn the tide of the fight and rally her children against their father. Howl howled veritably and begged for mercy as pillows and stuffed animals went flying everywhere, causing a jangle of shiny bobbles to clang and chime dissonantly. Suddenly a door somewhere in the castle opened and slammed, plunging the bedroom's occupants into silence. Heavy footsteps fell in the hallway as Markl half stumbled down the dim corridor and paused at their doorway. The young wizard apparently had not slept well; either that or the rest of the Jenkins family was up very early that morning. It was probably the later. The elder apprentice's auburn hair could only be described as diagonal. He had buttoned the green vest he wore over his shirt wrong, missing the bottom two fastening. Blinking bleary brown eyes, the Wallmaker's eldest son peered at them as though they had sprouted horns.

"Do you want to join us, Markl?" Drie piped hopefully.

But the young wizard scowled and continued on just as the bed gave a creaking moan that culminated in a great snap. It sank an inch and the entire family scrambled off just in time for it to collapse. Howl winced as one of the chimes overhead gave an ominous ping while the dust settled.

"I guess we need a new bed," Sophie laughed sunnily and then went about stripping the linens from the cushions.

"I get the bathroom first!" Drie called as she dashed out of the bedroom on her long pale legs.

"No fair!" Shan cried and tore off after his sister more for the sake of an argument rather than a need to wash. Akarshan hated baths, but he loved to hear himself talk. Their voices echoed down the hallway like squabbling birds.

"I suppose I should add another bathroom if I want to have a bath in the morning ever again," Howl grimaced as he snatched a pair of pants out of the wardrobe and dressed quickly. Smoothing his hair, the Wallmaker watched his wife bustle about the room in her nightshirt and he couldn't help but grin. Sophie paused as she caught her husband staring at her, and she looked around in confusion before returning her brown eyes to him.

"What?" She asked self-consciously, turning a rosy shade as she smoothed her wild silver hair.

"Just remembering what beautiful looks like," He replied genuinely before whisking from the room and skipping down the stairs with light steps. Markl was seated on the couch in front of the fire daemon, his back to the stairs. He did not greet his father as he normally did.

"What was that noise?" Calcifer crackled from the fireplace.

"Good morning, Cal," Howl smiled in his carefree way, ignoring his best friend's question. The wizard went about getting breakfast ready.

"Is something wrong, Markl?" The lanky man asked his apprentice as he brought over the egg basket and the bacon tray. The fire daemon regarded the raven haired man with frank surprise as the Wallmaker hooked the kettle closer to the embers in the hearth with a large wooden spoon as he snagged a skillet from the wall. The master of the castle sat next to his eldest son as he tossed a slice of meat into the pan and let it season the skillet. Calcifer watched the two of them from under the pot with large eyes. The russet haired boy's face was hesitant and a melancholy expression colored his golden brown eyes.

"Drie had a bad dream last night… and so did I," was his simple reply.

Howl paused and regarded his son with a thin smile that belied the worried expression in his sapphire eyes. The tall man completely forgot about the bacon in the pan.

"When I get home I'll put some wards up in her room. Hopefully that will help."

"You're going into Chipping Market?" Markl asked in passing, his mind still elsewhere.

"Kingsbury," They were both quiet for a moment after that.

"Can I come with you?" Markl continued.

"Not yet. But next time perhaps. I'll look in on Theresa for you," Howl continued before his eldest son could object, "Do you want to talk about your dream?"

Markl sighed and scrubbed at his tired face, regarding his father with seriousness uncharacteristic to a thirteen year old boy. But then again, wizards are never usual, especially the young ones.

"I can't remember much about it, which is the strange part. It's probably because it wasn't my dream. But I do remember the elder star. At first he didn't see me; but when he did it was like he was trying to tell me something again. I wish we still had Suliman's crystal so I could try and talk to him again."

Howl listened very intently to what his apprentice was saying. A lot had changed since the Wallmaker had lost and regained his wife; he did not dismiss anything quite so easily anymore.

"If he's trying to contact us it must be something important," the Wallmaker mused absently, "Perhaps we could try to find him in the otherworld later."But the voice of the wizard's best friend drew his eyes back to the fire place.

"Fat lot of good that will do you; Star daemons never make any sense, even to me," Calcifer crackled moodily from under the pan. Black smoke had begun to rise from the skillet and the living flame reached out a tendril of fire to shake the wooden spoon the raven haired man held forgotten in his hand.

"Hey, Howl; you're burning the bacon!" Cal quipped.

With a yelp the elder wizard stood and quickly scooped the blackened slice into Calcifer's waiting maw, "Drat! You did that on purpose, Cal!"

"I did not!" The fire daemon snapped around his mouthful of bacon charcoal, "It's not my fault you've forgotten how to cook since you married Sophie."

"What are you two bickering about?" Sophie called as she came downstairs with an arm load of bed linens. Shan followed behind her, buried under an armful of sheets.

"Nothing, Sophie," Cal called over the whistling kettle, which he pushed away as Howl dropped another slice of bacon into the pan, "Howl's just burning breakfast."

"Someone's not going to get any eggshells this morning if they keep this up," The wizard muttered dangerously, letting the heavy skillet squish his friend, who gave a chittering crackle.

But the silver haired witch laughed at their antics as she came through the kitchen to the great tiled sink that also served as their laundry facilities. Shan tottered blindly behind his mother, bumped into the couch. He sat down hard and became buried under the sheets.

"Do you need some help, Shan?" Markl asked as he leaned over the back of the couch and uncovered the little boy. Akarshan grinned up at his brother from under a pillow case that draped across his head.

"No, thanks big brother, I'm helping mommy!" He replied with a grin as Sophie came back to her youngest son's side and began gathering up the strewn bed clothes.

The Granny witch emerged with Heen under one arm and a basket of yarn in the other just as Sophie dumped her burden onto the sink. The faded old woman came over and settled into her chair beside the fire, smiling at them all.

"Oh what a lovely family," she murmured and began clicking her needles together.

"Breakfast!" Howl announced.

Markl stood and picked up Shan with a playful groan. The little boy squealed with glee as his older brother slung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The young wizard sat his brother down on the bench and began passing him plates, cups, and silverware from the side board. Their father came over with the sizzling pan and divvied up the eggs and bacon as his wife filled the tea pot with hot water at the hearth.

"Would it be alright if we do laundry today, Calcifer?" She asked the fire daemon after topping off the simple white porcelain tea pot, which she had painted with small blue flowers.

"Sure thing, Sophie," Cal piped at the silver witch, a happy smile on his face. The fire daemon would never say it, but he loved the silver witch intensely. But it was same love that he felt for Howl, in spite of their constant bickering. Calcifer was simply happy to have his family together again and no amount of laundry could spoil that.

"No pancakes?" Shan intoned sadly as his father began slicing bread and cheese.

"We're out of flour. Perhaps you and your sister can go into Market Chipping to get some later," Howl replied as he sat at the head of the table.

"Yay!" Shan clapped his hands and bounced in place happily, "Can we visit Auntie Lettie and Granny Honey?"

"Is that a good idea?" Sophie asked quietly as she came over with teapot in one hand and Granny witch in the other. Her words were simple, but the meaning behind them was weighted with more than any family could expect to hear at the breakfast table.

"You should go see the rest of your family. They probably don't know that you're back. Plus, it would be good for the Hatters to know that Martha is alright," Howl replied with atypical sensibility as he sipped his tea, "Besides, Markl will go with them, won't you Markl?"

"I will?" The young wizard asked around a mouthful of bacon as he looked up in surprise at his father's charming smile.

The mistress of the castle settled the old woman next to her and stooped to pick up and deposit Heen in her lap. The little dog wagged his tail vigorously as she poured the stout brew into their cups, noticing that her husband had not put anything on his plate.

"You're not eating, Howl?" She asked carefully, but the wizard had fortuitously brought his tea cup to his lips at that moment and could not reply.

"We're missing a cherub," Granny Witch mumbled absently, casting her eyes about the kitchen.

"Drie's in the bath, Granny. Tea?" Sophie replied without taking her eyes off her husband. The gaze indicated she expected a reply and would wait until her husband had finished his whole cup if necessary.

"Yes, please dear," The old faded witch replied with a vacant smile, "I do so love tea."

"I have to go into town today as well," Howl replied cryptically, casting a glance toward the ceiling.

"Ah," Sophie replied evenly, reading between the lines as plainly as one would read the paper, "Eat something before you go."

Apparently Howl had business in Kingsbury and did not wish to upset his wife. In their second night together after the shield failed, since they had spent the first with a bed full of their children, Sophie had told her husband everything that had happened while she was in the beyond. The silver witch also confessed the terrible guilt she for fracturing of the glass spire and causing the failure of the Ingarian shield. Howl had attempted on many occasions during the past three days to convince her it wasn't her fault. The spire was old and they were lucky that the shield had lasted this long. But the silver sorceress was rather stubborn, much like her husband. But it was more than that, the Wallmaker's wife new her husband's trip had something to do with Deirdre. But she did not press the matter. Sophie knew the raven-haired wizard would tell her everything… eventually.

She turned her attention to Shan, who had begun feeding Heen bits of bacon. The fat little dog was slurping the little boy's hands and face, having turned his attention away from his bowl of oatmeal.

"Heen, has his own breakfast, Shan," She admonished gently, "Now go wash your face and hands again."

"Well, I'm off!" Howl finished his tea and stood briskly as he pushed away from the table, planting a kiss on Sophie's head as he passed.

"Howl, dear, would you give these to that handsome man?" Granny Witch called after the wizard, who stopped in his tracks with a backwards glance. The old woman held out a pair of fire engine red socks that had magically appeared in her hands. He tried not to feel the tinge of jealously over the old woman's words, but Howl indulged himself in a bit of childishness. There was only one _handsome man_ that the raven haired wizard could think of that would wear such a color.

"That was very kind of you to think of Barimus, Granny," The Wallmaker replied as he took the socks from her.

"I'm working on a blue pair for a handsomer man. But wherever have I put my needles?" The old woman blinked in confusion and looked about the kitchen table.

Howl couldn't help but laugh as his heart flooded full of happiness. It was almost enough to stymie the nagging anxiousness that clambered in the back of his mind. He snagged his great pink and grey checkered coat from the rack by the door and put the socks in one of the pockets.

"Bye, papa!" Shan called after his retreating father.

"Bye, Master Howl!" Markl called as the Wallmaker skipped down the front steps and turned the knob to red, disappearing out the front door.

xXx

Door lay in the grass curled like a ball against the wrenching pain the seized her body and mind. She had retreated once more into the otherworld hoping that the feeling of being torn apart would subside.

But it didn't.

For a moment the half-daemon was certain she was going to die. She decided that oblivion would be welcome if it would stop the pain. But as suddenly as it had began, the agony ceased. She lay there staring at the velvet indigo sky for a long time, feeling the constant silent wind rush over her, tangling the long silver hair that matted beneath her. For some strange reason the chimera though of the other… her sister. Was she alright? Had the pain reached her as well? Door was seized with another wave of conflicting thoughts over these foreign emotions. Why should she care if the other was in pain? As long as she lived the other would as well.

Life beyond the Dull Wall was the only thing of importance.

Several other daemons skirted about her curiously. They flickered like tiny points of blue and white lights, probably very young in this world because wiser beings would not have approached a spirit like she. Door bristled as some got too close and the daemons retreated from her anger. The half-human sat up and noted curiously the way in which the otherwind pulled at her mortal side. She would not be able to linger here for very long, and felt a stab of remorse over the loss of the tranquility of the green plains. Humans could not come into the otherworld for very long; but it was the only place a daemon could find true peace. It was also true that the mortal world was an intriguing world, full of food and fun; but it was no longer the home of spirits. There were some daemons that would disagree and fought long and hard to linger there. But Door didn't care about the troubles of her kin.

She had escaped the burned place and that was all that mattered.

The half-human stood and was considering going back into the mortal world when she experienced the most disorienting sensation of being pulled from her body. Door fought back and returned to herself, although the feeling remained, tightening like a vice right beneath her heart. It was painful, but nothing compared to the agony she had experienced before. It compelled her to walk forward, towards something in the distance.

A growing sense of dread clambered about her mind like a wild bird fighting against the bars of a cage. Her daemon half raged at her to flee, but her human side was curious. Suddenly she noticed the line of magic that fell from her like a shining blue-black ribbon in the grass. It emerged from her chest just below her heart. Door stooped to pick it up and stared at the enchanted living tendril in her hands. The chimera realized that there were two distinct cords, twining round one another in the way a rope is made from several lengths of string. The line gave a tug in her hand just as a figure melted out of the distance on the round swell of the next hill. The half-daemon knew the smell immediately and with a snarl her humanity fell away.

_YOU!_ The daemon screamed and surged forward as her eyes fell upon Mrs. Danna.

The former healer stopped dead in her tracks as she saw the raging column of black water that rushed forward for her. The daemon could see that the cold woman was powerless now, having been stripped of all her magic. At first the mortal regarded Door with absolute shock, but displayed no fear as it advanced on her. The daemon savagely knocked the woman from her feet and she tumbled down the hill. Had she been just a pure daemon, Door would not have wasted a moment to think about killing the mortal. She would have ripped her apart, devoured her flesh, and spent the rest of the week gnawing on her bones. But she wasn't just a daemon anymore.

_You killed her! You killed my mother!_ The half-human shrieked irrationally, but she could not take the life of the former daemon queen. Door's voice echoed through the otherworld like thunder as she loomed up like a black wave over Mrs. Danna's prone form. Again the memories flooded her, confusing her as she plunged into absolute turmoil. This woman was her mother as well, wasn't she? She had saved her from the burned place by giving her mortal flesh, fresh blood, and a heart. In the daemon's moment of hesitation, Mrs. Danna pulled hard on the thread she held in her hands and again the memories came. But these weren't from her sister, nor were they the silver mother's. They were Mrs. Danna's. Door reeled back with a silent scream, shedding her daemon skin. She collapsed into the grass next to the former daemon queen, clutching at her head as she remembered. When the memories faded, Door felt as if something inside her had broken.

_He killed them…_ The half-human sobbed bitterly. _He killed Alistair and Aeden…_

After a moment, Mrs. Danna reached out and placed a gentle hand on the creature back. The half-daemon gave a start and then began to shiver uncontrollably. Door shifted to curl up in the cold woman's lap, hiding her face in the tattered remnants of the woman green dress. The former daemon queen stroked her hair tenderly in the way a mother would soothe her distraught child. But her face was emotionless and the madness in her eyes shifted for a moment to a calculating expression.

_Mother…_ Door mumbled into the cold woman's skirts.


	2. Chapter 2: Jealousy

**The Daemon Wars: Part IV of the Wallmaker Saga**

**Chapter 2: Jealousy**

With each step he took Howl felt the lightness in his heart dissipate.

The Wallmaker emerged into the streets of Kingsbury only to find the city was once again teeming life. As he walked a flock of birds flew over him in the sky, their cousins crowding the trees along the boulevard with their raucous chattering voices. People bustled about the streets in groups, dressed in fine clothes; windows were open and families could be seen in their homes. The rumbling bumbling perambulators whisked on mechanical wheels through the streets trailing soot as fleets of sky kayaks buzzed like a horde of bees overhead. But amongst the easy sounds of everyday life, the wizard could feel fear as though it were a thin string stretched too taut between his fingers.

Although the birds sang, the inhabitants of the Ingarian Capital were silent.

People walked too quickly and had little time for anything more than a nod to their friends and neighbors. Even now the streets still seemed half empty in spite of all the noise of city life. As Howl rounded the corner, the semblance of normalcy shattered as his eyes fell upon the great piles of rubble that occupied the space where tidy ordered houses once stood. The raven-haired man couldn't help but stop and stare in desolation, his cerulean eyes large and serious. It was then that he noticed the robin garbed soldiers marching through every street, posted at every corner, and streaking through the sky above. The sun glinted off of their guns and it reminded Howl far too much of the Mardan war. He quickly continued down the row, carefully picking his way among the piles of rubble that clogged the crumbled street.

It had been so easy to return to his castle with his family in his arms and forget what had happened. Howl felt a stab of shame over the two days he had selfishly stolen for himself as he turned a blind eye to what they had left behind. He should have returned sooner, Howl brooded. He should have never left.

The naked blue sky overhead made him feel exposed.

Not that any of the non-magical citizens in the city could tell that the shield had fallen. But it didn't matter; they had been forced from their homes by the threat of monsters many humans had never before seen in their lives. Their existence had been forever changed as the burned place beyond the Dull Wall crept into the world. The inhabitants of the city realized that they would not wake from this nightmare and monsters did indeed lurk in the darkness. Even now Howl could feel it, the loitering threads of wild magic both kind and unclean, left behind in the wake of daemons from the plains of pain. It lingered in the disconcerting way that a burned smell permeates all things never permitting a person to forget the lingering ghost of a fire.

The destruction became worse as he drew near the palace.

Citizens were few here, almost non existent. Fleets of flying kayaks lifted heavy beams and larger pieces of rubble. Soldiers garbed in blue and red scrambled about with wheelbarrows and perambulating carts, trying to clear the streets. The Wallmaker was cheered to see points of crimson darting about in the air and standing among circles of workers pointing and giving orders. The Ingarian Wizard's Guard was not just a battalion of magic warriors. They were the force that filled in the gaps between the mundane and the magical societies: not quite sorcerers but not quite mortals. They bound the Ingarian country together in the way that completely unrelated pieces of cloth could be stitched to form a patchwork quilt.

But there were very few of them in the throngs of the laboring army. Guns and bombs were food to the daemons of the Dark, who took sustenance from pain and destruction. As such, when the city had been evacuated, King Ferdinand's military had accompanied the citizens of Kingsbury to temporary refugee camps set up in the fields east of Chipping Market. That left only the Wizards Guard, the Council, and an ancient shield from ages past to fight their foe. As such, the wizard's guard was forced to pay the ultimate price to protect their homes and families.

Howl was stopped twice at a checkpoint, once just beyond the workers and the second time at the great wall that surrounded the Palace. Under any other circumstances the lanky man would have pitched a fit over being detained and questioned like a criminal. At both stops a soldier held up a bell on a string that had been bewitched to ring in the company of daemon magic. The spell on the charm was strong and unfamiliar; most likely made by the foreign witches and wizards who had been sent to bolster the Council. Much to the handsome wizard's consternation, the talisman had clanged clamorously in his presence. As a result, the groups of terrified peach-faced soldiers leapt to attention and held him at gun point, demanding he raise his hands and not move an inch. One of their companions tore off and returned dragging a harried looking Wizard's guard, who took one look at Howl's great checkered coat and practically groveled at his feet in apology. The first time the Wallmaker was annoyed; the second time he was amused, but only just.

As Howl walked through the great gate he gazed up at the gleaming golden winged lions that held the Ingarian arms aloft. They had survived the assault intact, although the great heraldic sculpture was slightly askew. The huge courtyard within the wall was completely empty; in the distance he could see the shattered dome where the remnants of the shield room were located. The red bricks were still scorched. The vast square echoed loudly as a gigantic airship patrolled the sky over his head and the Wallmaker reconsidered trading his coat for feathers. He walked the rest of the way up the towering stairs on foot, shivering violently as he passed over the great banishing circle in the center of the plaza. The handsome man gave the doormen in the palace a great fright as he entered briskly. Howl listened as his grand title reverberate off the walls in the room but felt no pride in the name he had been given. The thin wizard grimaced mordantly as he remembered the three days he had spent wallowing in misery as the city was smashed to bits. But he did not linger long on those memories.

His thoughts were only of his brother at that moment.

Unlike his wife, Howl had no problem navigating the labyrinth of hallways and chambers that filled the Ingarian Palace. He had grown up in this place; indeed in his youth he had ruled here like a prince. As such he understood the secret clues, like carpet color and wallpaper shades, which told the servants exactly where they were. Thus, he quickly found his way to the east wing where Barimus' suite was located. As the tall man approached, his keen ears caught the furious tones of a familiar voice.

"You… You, cheeky brat… Get out, Out, OUT!" Theresa screamed.

"Why you dirty, impertinent, ill-bred, foul-mouthed little viper!" Another voice shouted in rage.

"I dare plenty you over-stuffed lout! You'll not see him! No one will see him! He needs his rest!" Martha's apprentice growled nastily.

Her throaty voice soared as Howl paused just outside the red wizard's suite gazing through the open doorway. Inside a young apprentice with long crimson hair and a face white with rage stood at odds with the herbalist's apprentice. He was about Markl's height and age and wore too much black. In his hands the boy clutched a packet of tattered papers wrapped in white silk. In spite of the heat in his voice, the boy was obviously wary of the freckle-faced girl and he stood well out of range of the garden hoe she held like a broad sword. Theresa barred the way to the next room, wearing her usual garb and as always, there were leaves in her curly hair.

"How dare you speak to me thus, you common girl! I was sent by my master, the GREAT Wizard Tirut to deliver these paper's personally to the Lord Councilor. I will see him!" There was a threatening pause and the boy stalked forward a step as the otherwind stirred his hair.

"You don't frighten me, Nalir!" Theresa shouted as she started forward swinging. Apparently the wizard's apprentice hadn't expected the girl to call his bluff. He backpedaled wildly and his wind extinguished.

"Help!" The red-haired boy squeaked and turned toe to sprint from the room, but he skidded to a halt in front of the Wallmaker. The young man took one look up at the blue-eyed wizard and seemed to wilt, turning as red as his hair. In the distance the Howl could hear the muffled sounds of his brother roaring with laugher.

"Master Howl!" Theresa exclaimed with joy, the look of murder fading from her eyes as she caught sight of the tall man.

"Hello, Theresa," The raven-haired man grinned at the young healer, "I see you're entertaining company."

"Wizard Howl, I demand that you deal with this common girl at once!" Nalir half screeched as he recovered and stabbed a finger back at Martha's apprentice, shaking with fury.

"Those look important, Nalir. I was on my way to see Barimus anyway, so why not let me take them for you?" Howl replied with a smile so charming it gave even the enraged young wizard pause; the red-haired boy simply gaped at him.

"Excellent! I'm glad we agree," The tall man deftly relieved the boy of his burden as he strode forward past the squabbling apprentices and entered his brother's bedroom.

Barimus was laughing so hard he was crying.

However, the red wizard looked absolutely awful; there were circles under his eyes so dark he looked as though he had been beaten. Indeed there was still the ghost of a bruise on the bridge of his nose where Howl had punched him. But the Lord Councilor's face was far too pale beneath the bandaged that encircled his head, from which his corn silk hair tried desperately to escape. But his complexion went beyond white; he had the grey color of a person who had completely exhausted himself. Barimus was practically swimming among the pillows that propped him up in the great bed on which he rested. However, the mirth seemed to do him some good, because it brought a bright warmness to his golden eyes that made him appear more than half-dead.

The Lord Councilor was wearing a long nightshirt that disappeared beneath the heavy comforter that was tucked about his waist. He held himself against his glee, displacing the piles of papers that covered the writing desk in front of him. Howl noticed the pair of amber earrings in the middle of the desk immediately; both from the daemon magic on them and due to the fact that they looked familiar. But he quickly turned his eyes away, looking at the books and stray papers covering every inch of the bed within his brother's reach. More books piled on every chairs and table in the room. Except for one, which held a wicker basket stuffed with all manner of accoutrements. A small brazier sat not far from it, glowing with a cheery flame to warm the small constantly hissing kettle. A green candle etched with blue symbols flickered near a large white mortar and pestle, from which issued a sharp cinnamon smell.

Howl spared a glance around his brother's room, noting that this was perhaps the first time he had been in this place. It had the empty feeling of a chamber little used by its occupants and there were few personal things. Barimus had never been one for personal possessions. He practically lived in his office and Martha preferred to stay at her shop. Or at least she did before it had been destroyed. But the herbalist's presence manifested in the faint smell of agrimony that clung to the room and in large vase of bright purple thistles that sat on the side table next to the red wizard. Howl couldn't help but smile; it was a tradition in Market Chipping to place thistles in the room of a sick loved one.

Howl looked back at his brother and hovered at the foot of his bed, sorrow plain in his eyes as a pinched expression fractured the false smile on his face.

"Don't look at me like that, Howl. I assure you I feel much better than I appear," Barimus chuckled as he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

"I believe these are for you," Howl spoke solemnly as he came to stand at the red wizard's side and sat the papers on top of a pile books.

"Damn the papers, you idiot," The blond man growled gruffly as he caught hold of the sleeve of Howl's great coat, "Come here!"

The two managed a clumsy but sincere embrace that lasted quite some time. Neither wizard spoke, but much was said without words. At last the Wallmaker drew back and displaced some books to pull a chair up to his brother's bedside. Again he couldn't help but look at the amber earrings, but this time Barimus followed Howl's gaze and quickly closed his hand over the talismans. The blond man's face crumbled and tears gathered in his eyes as he placed the jewelry in the pocket on the chest of his nightshirt. Howl did not press the matter, to change the subject the Wallmaker took in the mess that covered the red wizard's bed.

"This is new," Barimus spoke in a voice more cheerful than his face belied as he motioned to the grey at Howl's temples, "I makes you look distinguished."

"I can't believe your wife let you have your work," the raven-haired man spoke in amazement, ignoring his brother's gentle jibe.

"No, indeed Martha has refused to let me do much besides rest. She practically shackled me to Theresa. The poor child nearly fainted from fear when my dear wife charged her with the duty of caring for me." Barimus' face suddenly came alive with consternation, "Can you believe that the little scamp drugged me? Twice!"

"Whatever for?" Howl couldn't help but laugh.

"The first time was shortly after the spire cracked. The second time was when I tried to see Peoter-Dieter about the business of giving magic to soldiers," the blond man grimaced angrily.

"Ah, I was wondering who passed out those enchanted bells. Is it wise to be handing out magic to untrained mortals? In light of recent circumstances I understand that there are not enough of the Wizard's Guard left to patrol the city. But the mortal soldiers held me at gun point because the talisman sensed daemon magic on me."

"They didn't!" Barimus half shouted, his face going alive with shock, "I need to speak to the twins about this immediately."

"Where is Martha?" The Wallmaker quickly changed the subject, "I half expected her to eject me the moment I arrived."

"In the palace infirmary; I have one of my spies on her to make sure she doesn't work herself to death," the red wizard replied in distraction, obviously still disturbed by what he had learned. "I threatened to get out of bed if she didn't tell me everything she knew. Apparently Theresa missed a couple details. Perhaps can I manage to get her to smuggle more missives to the Peoter-Dieter by refusing to take my medicine."

Barimus craned his head to look over Howl's shoulder, obviously seeking the young healer as he spoke, "The girl is a dear child, but she's far too gentle."

"Tell that to Nalir," Howl chuckled, "She nearly took his head off with the garden hoe Markl made for her."

"I'm sure he deserved it. Currently he's the most gifted apprentice in the academy. But his head is far too big for his own good. Too bad…" Barimus replied with a heavy sigh.

"What's all this then?" The blue-eyed man asked as he indicated the mess on his brother's bed with interest.

"Research," Barimus replied evenly, suddenly going deadly serious as he held his brother's eyes. The blond man looked away and clenched his fists so hard his knuckles were white. When he spoke it was in a harsh voice that grated between his teeth, "She was the daemon who almost destroyed us all. She was…"

"She is Suliman's younger sister Earin," Howl finished for him with deep regret.

"Is?" The Lord Councilor asked in a dangerously quiet voice, "I was told you destroyed _it_."

The Wallmaker was silent.

"It lives?" Barimus asked in a stunned voice.

"That thing killed my child, Howl!" The red wizard thundered in dreadful wrath as he threw back the desk on his lap and grabbed a hold of the front of his brother's shirt, "It tired to kill Martha! And Sophie and Markl and you let her live? It stole away your daughter and YOU LET IT LIVE?"

Papers flew about them and books clattered to the floor as the Royal Wizard threw himself at the Wallmaker. Rage seized his brother in a way Howl had seen only a few times in his life. But there was nothing he could do to assuage the pain in the blond man.

There was no solace he could offer.

xXx

Her daughter's breakfast was stone cold on the table.

"Deirdre! Don't soak too long or you'll turn into a prune!" Sophie called up the stairs, drying a dish with brisk movements.

She placed the plate back with its brothers in the tidy stack on the sideboard. She slid a few of the saucers an inch in different directions, aligning the row of cups into a smart display of precision. In spite of her practicality, the silver haired witch had a habit of getting ahead of herself. She had to empty the laundry from the sink to wash the dishes from breakfast. She would wash her daughter's plate and silverware later. She still sometimes forgot to clean the ashes from the fireplaces before scrubbing the floors. Swiftness was not always synonymous with efficiency. She had tried to explain this one many occasions to Akarshan when she asked him to clean his room and the little boy simply stuffed everything under his bed.

Markl had offered to help her with the dishes but she had smiled brightly at her eldest son and scooted him back to the couch. The russet haired boy still looked fatigued, in spite of the fact that he had slept the entire day after they had returned home from the capital. Shan tottered over to his brother with an enormous book and asked very politely if he would read to him. Granny witch was humming absently, the constant click of her knitting needles punctuated Howl's apprentice's voice like a metronome as he read aloud about some kind of levitation spell. Calcifer crackled softly in the grate and Heen wheezed, adding a mellow counterpoint to the symphony of the sounds of her family.

But a new voice had been added to the chorus of their lives and she needed to get out of the bath and come down to eat her breakfast.

Just like her father, Sophie mused with a grin as she turned on the hot water in the sink and snagged the wash board off the wall. Akarshan hated baths, but not Deirdre. Suddenly a thrill of terror passed through the silver sorceress as she remembered what had happened. She could still hear her daughter's resonating screams and remembered the hideous resounding crack the spire gave as it fractured. Her hands were shaking so much she almost dropped the box of soap she lifted from the adjacent self. It was so easy to slip back into the domestic routines she moved through as the mother of the castle. Patterns had a way of robbing from her all sense of time, lulling her into complacency and making her forget about anything beyond the walls of the castle. After experiencing all the horror and madness in the world outside, never before in her life had Sophie enjoyed scrubbing suds-covered sheets so much.

It was good to be home, among the ones she loved; surrounded by the things she knew and understood.

"Deirdre!" She called again, more for the joy of saying her daughter's name aloud.

All of the occupants in the room jumped as the door under the stairs suddenly popped open spilling a billowing rose-scented cloud of steam into the living room. Deirdre hovered dripping and pink faced on the threshold, her thin nightgown clinging to her thin body most inappropriately. Sophie experienced a disconcerting sense of displacement as she looked beyond her daughter to see the bathroom upstairs. The silver haired witch knew for a fact that the portal magic on that door lead to Market Chipping. It was then that she noticed her daughter's hand, which was resting on the bathroom latch. It was as though she was wearing a glove so blue it seemed black; although as the brown-eyed mother stared she knew it was the girl's skin. Heen gave a squeal that sounded akin to the squawk of a chicken with laryngitis at the sight of the child-woman and he flew from Granny's lap and went scrabbling under her skirts.

"Yes, mommy?" Deirdre asked cheerfully, but her words were cut off as Calcifer flared up huge and angry in the fireplace.

"DON'T EVER DO THAT AGAIN!" The fire daemon thundered spitting sparks and soot as the room seemed to darken; the living flame went black and red in his rage. Sophie threw herself back against the copper pots on the wall in surprise, which clattered to the floor as a strangled shriek issued from Shan as he and his brother were showered with embers. Deirdre went white with terror and she threw herself backwards slamming the door behind her. Calcifer deflated with a stunned expression on his face, dwindling to a small sickly green ember in the grate.

"What the bloody hell was that about, Cal?" Mark cried in a heated voice as he yanked his brother up and madly patted at himself and Shan to dislodge the glowing ashes.

"Markl, watch your language!" Sophie snapped, recovering from the shock.

"The pages got burned!" Akarshan wailed as he twisted in his brother's grip to regard the blackened leaves of the open book.

"Oh, what a noisy castle," Granny mumbled with a smile, not phased in the slightest as she reached down to disentangle Heen from her skirts.

"I'm linked to this castle you know!" Calcifer crackled furiously at Markl as he flared up into a healthier looking red color. The fire daemon stabbed a thin tendril of flame towards the ceiling, "_She _just made a portal from the bathroom door down to here and went right through the middle of my head in doing so! How would you like it if I went lumbering through your mind without so much as a by-your-leave!"

That shut Markl up, for the apprentice was well acquainted with the disconcerting feeling of having someone else in his head. The elder apprentice still remembered the bewildering sensation of having the star daemon buzzing in the back of his head.

"Drie doesn't know any better, Cal. You didn't need to scare her," Sophie snapped reproachfully as she whisked past her sons.

"_She_ scared _me_ just as much, Sophie!" The glowing ember called nastily after the silver haired witch as she went stomping up the stairs with a scowl.

The brown-eyed woman noted as she reached the top of the stairs that the bathroom door was wide open, and her eyes fell to the wet footprints on the floor. She tracked her little girl into Howl's bedroom and couldn't help but smile as the feet shaped puddles led up to the large closet where her husband kept all of his fancy clothes. The door was cracked an inch. Sophie stood there patiently, listening to the gentle pings and chimes of the many mobiles in the wizard's room.

"May I come in?" The silver-haired witch asked after a moment. The door pushed open another inch with a lazy squeak by way of reply. Opening the door, Sophie turned and sat on the ground, wiggling herself back into the close darkness that filled whatever spaces in the press weren't stuffed with fancy shirts and coats. She breathed in the faints smell of roses and hyacinth and turned to regard her daughter. The thin child-woman had tucked her knees under her chin and was currently hiding her face in one of Howl's cream colored coats, which she had plucked from above.

"When I was little, I used to hide in my father's closet too. I liked it because it was full of his suites and they all smelled of him, like tobacco and felt."

"Is Calcifer mad at me?" Drie asked around a face full of coat.

"No, cherub; you just scared him is all. We're all still getting acquainted, it'll take a while for you to get used to the castle," Sophie smiled in her best warm mommy voice. But indeed, she had scared them all. The silver haired witch did her best not to dwell on the memory of her daughter's dark hand on the door knob, but it stuck in her head like a cracker in a dry throat. To ignore her conflicted thoughts, she reached out to put her arm around her daughter and found that she was drenched.

"Goodness, you're soaked! Weren't there towels in the bathroom?"

"They were folded so pretty. I didn't want to get them wet," Deirdre replied in a small voice that sent Sophie laughing so hard she held her sides.

"Up and out, little lamb. We need to get you dressed and fed," The brown-eyed mother sang light-heartedly as she stood and pulled her daughter after her. Again the silver sorceress experienced the disquieting sensation of disarticulation as Deirdre stood to her full height and towered over her mother. None of her dresses would fit Drie, the mother of the castle realized in dismay. The child-woman stood taller than Markl but shorter than Howl and she was thin, thin, thin! Too thin, nattered the crotchety 90-year old woman in the back of Sophie's mind, but definitely not a child. No six year-old had those kinds of curves, which flustered the brown-eyed woman even further. It appeared the child had more than a castle to become acquainted with. She was now both a woman and a witch and that made things thrice as difficult for everyone, especially Deirdre.

"Look, mommy, I can touch the ceiling!" Deirdre smiled brightly as she placed her fingertips on the rafters above them.

"Wonderful, you can help me sweep the cobwebs in the hall," The silver haired woman muttered in distraction as she fetched a couple of spare towels from the linen closet. Setting her daughter on the slanted corner of her broken bed, Sophie vigorously dried her off daughter in the same way she dealt with Akarshan in the aftermath of his weekly baths. Carefully brushing her girl's long silver hair, she fixed it into two plaits with expert skill. Finally, she had to root around in Howl's closet to find something that would fit their child and settled on a pair of the thin wizard's black slacks and a voluminous sleeved white shirt. The witch couldn't help but experience a wave of consternation over putting her daughter in pants. It was all well and fine for Martha and her apprentice to go about in trousers, but Sophie was a bit more old-fashioned than she let on.

"You look like papa!" Shan suddenly piped from the doorway, giving them both a fright.

"I love pants!" Drie asked with a grin, plunging her hands into the deep pockets with a look of glee on her face. "If I look like papa, does that mean I get to boss you?"

"No!" Shan sang petulantly, "I'm older than you by a whole fifteen minutes, mommy said so. So I get to boss you!"

"Out, cherubs! I need to see to the laundry and get you all into town to see the Hatters," Sophie shoed her children from the room in the way one scatters a flock of geese.

"We're going to visit Grandma Honey?" Shan asked with excitement as he led Drie by the hand down the hallway.

"Yes, and Auntie Lettie too; we need to let everyone know I'm home and introduce them to Drie," Sophie replied in an even voice. It wasn't going to be easy, but then again, since when was anything easy?

"Can we have éclairs as Auntie's shop? Drie needs to have an éclair, she's never had one!" Shan cried with greed plain in his eyes.

"You just ate, Shan!" Sophie half-scolded.

But the tall girl came to a stop halfway down the stairs with a strange look in her eyes. She sat on the steps and peered through the banister at the fireplace. The brown-eyed witch looked back at her girl just as Heen once again fled the living room. Markl was looking at her over his shoulder curiously, although his brows were slightly creased. But Drie was looking past him at the fire daemon, who was hunkered down in the grate doing his best impression of asleep.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Calcifer," the silver haired child-woman spoke.

"Call me Cal, kid. Just don't do that again, okay?" The living flame crackled. His words were kind, although his voice was terse.

"Oh, what a dear little Drie," Granny smiled over her knitting needles and turned to look around for her fat little friend, "Where's Heen? Here doggy? Nice doggy?"

xXx

Nalir didn't normally snoop.

It was beneath the behavior of well bred sorcerers to go listening at keyholes like common kitchen maids. Or so his mother had told him when she had caught him listening at the door of her study. His mother was constantly lecturing him on the importance of his rank and the behavior that was expected of him as a result. She was always nagging him about his posture, the cleanliness of his hands and the cadence of his speech. She had also added it was much better to scry with a bowl of water to spy on friends and foes because it kept you well out of range of magical retaliations. Not that his mother made much of a distinction between a friend and an enemy.

Tirut's apprentice had fled the Royal Wizard's antechamber after the Wallmaker filched his errand. The young man had no intentions of remaining in the presence of the common girl who spoke so rudely and threatened him with gardening tools. But he had not gone far, lingering just around the corner of the hallway out of curiosity. The wizard Howl was not known to visit the capital and Nalir could have strangled himself for speaking so insolently to the keeper of the balance. Indeed, had his mother been here she certainly would have throttled her son; so he lingered, waiting for a chance to apologize to the Wallmaker.

Being in the favor of the tall sorcerer would be helpful in times to come, especially since the Council was preparing to request that the Lord Councilor pick an heir. The assault on the palace had shaken the Wizard's Council to its core and his mother told him she had not seen such indecision and chaos since the time of the Wallbreaker six years ago. The attack had reminded the Council that witches and wizards were just as mortal as common people. Furthermore, the red wizard was not well; and he thought chilled Nalir. He liked Lord Barimus as much as he feared him; the Royal Wizard frequently visited the apprentices. All the students at the academy were in awe of the blond man, who seemed just as invincible as he was powerful. But the red-haired young man knew the truth of that matter to well.

Nalir's father had wizard of significant skill, died in the Mardan war defending their home during a bombing raid. Nalir was often surprised by the fact that he felt no sorrow over the loss of his father, nor did he harbor hatred for Ingary because of his death. There was too little of the man in his memories to feel any sense of bereavement. It was a political marriage, his mother said once; although she had briefly mourned the man. Merra of Marda, the water witch, so they called his mother. Their family was well known in both Tyrn and Ingary for their ambition.

As such, the red-haired woman and her son had migrated to Kingsbury to join the Council as a sign of good faith in the peace negotiations that followed the War. But Nalir recalled only fear and turmoil from that time in their life, which heralded the coming of the Wallbreaker. Merra was a shrewd sorceress and she caught wind of the ill fortune about to befall the capital after the passing of the Royal Sorceress Suliman. Nalir and his mother had fled back to Marda just before the Wizard Agyrus returned and killed half of the Council in a fit of madness brought on by a sorrow daemon. Together Howl, the Red Wizard and the Silver Sorceress had defeated the Dark. No, he reminded himself, only subdued; the place beyond the Dull Wall could never be destroyed, only held at bay.

With a sense of wonder tinged by embarrassment, the young wizard recalled the image of the tall raven-haired man he had shouted at earlier. The Wizard Howl was the most powerful sorcerer in all or Ingary, Marda and Tyrn; even more powerful than his Master Tirut, the eldest of the Council. And Nalir had shouted at him like he was a commoner. The red-haired boy wilted under his shame. The keeper of the balance had single handedly healed the breech in the Dull Wall caused by the Wallbreaker. Moreover, he saved all of Ingary by defeating the obsidian hydra the Councilors were calling the daemon queen. There was a lot of gossip about the raven-haired man in the palace. Howl was married to the Sorceress of the Silver flame, a woman shrouded in as much mystery as the Wallmaker. He heard talk that she had died in the first attacks on the city, but apparently not for he had caught a glimpse of the elusive witch in the chaos of the shield room. Nalir experienced the ear-splitting force of her cry just before the spire cracked and the golden barrier fell. But he hadn't been able to see much else around his mother, who had come all the way from Marda to save him.

It was wonderful to be back with mother again.

Merra had been so horrified by what hat taken place in Kingsbury during the time of the Wallbreaker that she refused to return from Marda. Although he was young at the time and barely into his magic, Nalir remembered the day that the Dull Wall had broken. Even in the darkest depths of his nightmares he couldn't recall having felt such an absolute sense of all consuming terror. It was a close call, but that single moment was far more horrible than the ordeal he had experienced during the assault on the palace lead by the daemon queen. The hair on the back of his neck prickled and the young wizard was seized by a violent shudder just thinking about it.

The green-eyed apprentice was on fire with questions about what had happened. But his mother remained silent as stone. He had gathered little knowledge of the extraordinary events that had taken place in the crumbled shell of the shield room. Even with a bowl made of the purest crystal filled with the clearest of water, he had learned little beyond the gossip that floated about the palace. Nalir had inherited his mother's uncanny ability to scry with absolute perfection; but his gift was limited to places and people he had already seen. There was only one person he knew whose magical ability outstretched his own. With a bitter sense of resentment, the Mardan boy entertained jealous thoughts of the Wallmaker's awkward apprentice Markl. But they were not malicious; the russet haired boy saved Nalir's life in the stairwell and once more in the shield room by holding the daemon queen at bay.

It burned Nalir that he had not been able to help himself and his own weakness was infuriating. Ambition suddenly flared in the lurking boy, manifesting in a fiery need to be better than every apprentice. It was this iron resolve that was swayed his mother to let him return to Kingsbury. Merra relented after a year of Nalir's persistent hounding, and allowed her son to attend school at the Ingarian Sorcery Academy. She recanted for two reasons; first and foremost was that Kingsbury was the seat of all magical learning and the home of the Wizard Council. Secondly, Nalir's prowess had attracted the attention of the great Wizard Tirut, eldest and wisest of the Councilors. His skill had flourished under the tutelage of the faded elder man.

He put that skill to good use listening in on the conversation within the Royal Wizard's chambers. He watched silently as the rude girl left in a hurry going who knows where. With great distaste, he noted there were leaves in her hair and mud on her pant cuffs. Creeping closer, Nalir opened his inner ear and almost jumped out of his skin as the Lord Councilor started shouting at the Wallmaker. His face burned with shame for listening to such private talk, but he continued to listen. The young wizard's knees went weak over what he heard. He did not linger any longer and went tearing off through the palace in search of his mother with the ominous revelation still ringing in his ears.

The daemon queen lived.


	3. Chapter 3: The Bell's Knell

**The Daemon Wars: Part IV of the Wallmaker Saga**

**Chapter 3: The Bell's Knell**

"I had to," The Wallmaker replied in a whisper.

"WHY?" The Royal Wizard roared as he shook Howl frailly. But the raven-haired man was silent, paralyzed before the fury of his dear friend and brother. Suddenly, the red wizard went cross-eyed and became faint as he slumped against his younger sibling.

"Barimus!" Howl cried as he came back to his sense and carefully settled the injured man back into bed. He was so pale.

"Why?" The red wizard demanded again and again as he weakly fought against the Wallmaker's hands.

"Because of Deirdre!" Howl finally replied distraughtly and that seemed to give Barimus pause.

"Your daughter? What about her?" The blond man struggled to catch his breath as he stared with conflicting emotions at his brother. The raven-haired man gazed back at his brother, half horrified of the truth he was forced to speak. The Wallmaker would have followed the daemon queen into the otherworld in his rage; but Sophie's desperate cry brought him back to reason. In the moments after the shield fell, the sorcerer could see very clearly exactly what his daughter was and why the rest of his family was ill at ease around her.

"She is a daemon… I don't know how or why, but Danna is somehow tied to her in the way Calcifer was connected to me. That's why Sophie shattered the barrier. If I had destroyed that woman, Deirdre would have died with her."

Barimus stared at him wordlessly, a fierce look of horror bright in his golden eyes; although the fury on his face did not subside. _I should never have come_, Howl brooded. _I should have stayed in his castle and let things take care of themselves_. That was half the reason why the raven-haired man ignored things as long as possible. Every time he tried to do what was right it seemed to make things worse. Suddenly the red wizard turned away from him, scowling darkly. Howl sank back into his chair, weighted by a keen sense of despair.

Would there never be peace between he and his brother?

"I'm sorry, Barimus," the Wizard Howl mumbled in a brittle voice as he started to stand.

"Sit down you fool, and stop apologizing!" The red wizard snapped as he turned back to regard the blue-eyed man with a cross expression. But his eyes softened contritely in spite of the hard frown on his lips. The blond wizard never seemed to be able to feel any emotion by itself. They mixed within him like a swirling thunder cloud that broke to expose the bright sun while simultaneously pouring rain. Howl sank back into his seat and regarded the injured man with candid surprise.

"I'm ever so happy to hear that Sophie is alright. And I'm just as glad you're here," his sibling spoke earnestly, trying to mask the tender emotions in his voice while busily tidying up the papers he had tossed around the bed in his fit of rage. "Would you hand me my desk?"

The blue-eyed man retrieved the writing table wordlessly and set it back in Barimus' lap. The red wizard strained with a frustrated grimace to reach the packet of papers Nalir had brought to him and Howl handed it to his brother.

"Damn these legs," He growled in aggravation as he tore away the white silk on the papers.

"Are they badly broken?" The Wallmaker asked in an off-handed way, trying not to let his distress for his brother sound in his voice.

"Martha said that both my shins are fractured. A wall fell on Markl and I after the wrath daemon let loose an explosion outside the shield room. I'm lucky it wasn't my head," the red wizard replied in the manner a person describes a stroll in the park. But the blond man was peering intensely at the pages in his hands. Although the Royal Wizard was not so far from himself to forget to give thanks, "The only reason I'm alive right now, why any of us are alive, is because of you and Markl."

"Keep scowling at that page and it will burst into flames," Howl replied with interest, deftly side-stepping the previous conversation, "What are you looking at that has you so annoyed."

"Councilor Raia's prophecy," Barimus replied, still peering sternly.

"The one she spoke of six years ago to the Wizard's Council?"

"Yes, but its unfinished and a bloody mess! I can't read a single word and I can't very well ask her to decipher it for me. The poor old fool was murdered in the moments before the explosions ushered the first wave of daemons into Kingsbury. That's far too much of a coincidence for me to ignore. Her apprentice has been missing ever since."

As he spoke the red wizard looked away from the parchment in his hands and stared into the distance as memories filled his eyes.

"She was a tall mousy girl, just as blind as her mistress, but something about her always made my skin crawl. She could walk about like any other sighted person, but it was more than that. Something wrong with her… I can't think of how to describe it."

"It was like she was empty?" The Wallmaker offered, a severe expression sobering his face.

"That's exactly it!" Barimus snapped his head up from the papers to regard his brother in candid alarm, "Did you know her?"

In a quiet voice, Howl proceeded to tell the Royal Wizard exactly what Sophie had told him in the dark hours they had passed on their second night together. He went on to described how he had found his wife once more in the otherworld through the help of the elder star daemon. The Wallmaker explained how he and the silver sorceress returned once more to the mortal world through a portal created by the hands of their daemon daughter. Once he had finished, Barimus' stared at him wordlessly. His face twisted in consternation as the Lord of the Wizard's Council attempted to process what he had learned.

"Before Deirdre aged, Sophie said the daemon was inside your girl? I thought you said that she is the daemon?"

"Yes, yes! I don't understand it either!" Howl half shouted in dismayed confusion as he shot to his feet and began pacing around his brother's bed. But Barimus pursued the thread of their conversation without pause.

"You said that Sophie followed the empty woman, Councilor Raia's apprentice, right into a trap set by… by…" The red wizard choked on the former healer's name as though it were poison.

"Earin Danna." The Wallmaker spoke grimly.

"Don't you dare speak that name in my presence ever again! That thing is not Suliman's sister!" Barimus snarled, going pale with irrational fury as he clutched at the pocket on his nightshirt, "That soulless fiend couldn't be called human after all it's done! It's beyond evil! It's insane and I won't speak of it!"

"Calm down, Barimus!" Howl spoke softly as he tried to settle the red wizard, taking the papers from his hands. The raven-haired man suddenly understood why Martha's apprentice had drugged his brother on two occasions. But the Wallmaker was not so removed from the situation to have missed the important truth the Royal Wizard uncovered. The empty woman created a connection between Danna and Councilor Raia. But what did it mean? What the bloody hell did any of this mean?

The husband of the silver sorceress was snatched from his thoughts as the double doors to the adjoining pushed open. Theresa whisked in carrying a platter that held a tea service and a plate of sandwiches.

"My champion returns!" Barimus sang in a light hearted voice. The curly-haired young girl regarded them both with her best imitation of Martha's stony practical demeanor; the look did not suite her.

"I was wondering where you had gone, dear one. For a while I was afraid for young Nalir's life. I hope you didn't maim him too badly?"

Thanks to a life surrounded by courtiers, both Howl and his brother had the ability to charm even the bluest of bloods. The red wizard turned the full lamp of his charisma on the young healer and the kind-hearted girl's expression softened. She couldn't help but blush and grinned sheepishly. With the practiced movements of a person well acquainted with multitasking, Theresa shifted the tray to one hand and poured hot water into the bright red tea pot.

"I didn't kill him if that's what you mean, Master Barimus," the girl spoke. She bustled over and began indiscriminately clearing the books and papers from the Royal wizard's desk, much to his dismay. Theresa sat the tray in front of the wizards and began collecting books that had been strewn from the bed onto the floor.

"Have a care for my work, dear one. And call me Barimus," but the blond man's frown transformed into a smile as his warm brown eyes fell on the bright red tea pot. "Oh, you brought my favorite service; how kind of you."

As his brother strove to return order to the chaos of his parchment piles, Howl discretely slipped Councilor Raia's papers into one of the voluminous sleeves of his coat. The Wallmaker had only the dimmest memories of Suliman's sister. After Barimus' outburst Howl realized that he would have little help from his brother when trying to uncover information about the former healer. The blue-eyed wizard desperately wanted his brother's aid, but did not trust his objectivity at this moment. He felt a twinge of guilt over filching Raia's papers, but he could not afford to overlook anything at this moment. Besides, he was much better at deciphering messy script; Sophie's writing hand was atrocious.

Perhaps with time they would be able to speak more, but time was not something they had at their disposal.

"Would you like some tea, Master Howl?" The curly-red haired girl asked with a sunny smile as she poured some of the stout brew into the single cup on the tray. The Wallmaker politely declined.

"Is it drugged?" Barimus sniffed at the cup his wife's apprentice handed him.

"Master Barimus! What a thing to say," Theresa frowned guilty as she colored as red as her hair. Although the expression fled as the young healer peered at the Royal Wizard's face.

"I'm quite fine, young lady. And call me Barimus!" The red wizard mock growled as he sipped his tea.

"I almost forgot. I came bearing gifts. Granny made these for you," Howl suddenly remembered the socks in his pocket and handed them to his brother as he stood.

"What a dear old woman she is," Theresa exclaimed as she snatched them out of the Royal Wizard's hands and went toward the foot of his bed before she realized what she was doing. Again she flushed as dark as the tea service as the young woman cast her wide green eyes at her mistress' husband.

"Forgive me, Master. Would you like me to help you?"

"Barimus, dear one… Yes, my feet are rather cold," the red wizard murmured as he sank back into his pillows, obviously beginning to tire.

The young healer pulled back the blankets at the foot of the bed. Howl had a good look at the plaster casts on his brother's lower legs as the girl gently slipped on the fuzzy woolen socks. With skilled efficiency, Theresa adjusted the pillows elevating the royal wizard's shins and tucked the cover back around him. By the time she had finished, Barimus was fast asleep. Howl was about to speak when Theresa shot him a Martha glance that silenced him. Moving to the head of the bed, she tucked the blankets closer around the sleeping Royal Wizard and gently laid her hand on his forehead to check his temperature. Seeming satisfied she picked up the tray and writing desk, noting with a frown that Barimus hadn't touched the sandwiches. Setting them aside, the freckle-faced girl beckoned the Wallmaker into the next room, closing the door to the antechamber just enough that their voices wouldn't wake the red wizard. Howl couldn't help but grin at the young herbalist, who was as red as a beet.

"Tea?" He asked archly.

"You've seen how he is, Master Howl!" Theresa half snapped her eyes bright with worry as she gestured with wild motions towards the bedroom. But she settled and planted her hands on her hips regarding the Wallmaker with a challenging glint in her eyes, "Martha authorized the judicious use of lesser herbs like chamomile, lavender and a spot or two of vervain. But that's beside the point."

Suddenly, the young healer began pacing wildly and picked up her garden hoe as she passed where it leaned against the wall. She seemed at war with herself over whether or not to speak of what was on her mind.

"How is he?" Howl asked in a softer voice, hoping to start a conversation and encourage the young girl to settle in one spot.

"The master is well enough, and so is the mistress. But I'd like to drug Lady Martha as well; she's as bad as the master. But there is good news; Prince Justin comes from Marda with a mage healer who specializes in bones. There's only so much we can do with herbs and rest."

"Is that what's bothering you?" Howl had more than a hand in the raising of his two sons and had picked up a thing or two from his wife. With a great sigh Theresa settled on one of the couches in the room and fiddled with her garden hoe, a troubled expression on her face.

"I'm a plain girl, Master Howl. I haven't a stitch of magic in me and I don't know much about Wizarding. It's not my place to talk about these kinds of things."

"Everything is magic, Theresa; including you. Don't forget that." The Wallmaker replied in a serene voice. He sat on the arm of the couch and returned the young girl's startled look with a warm smile. With that the words tumbled from her mouth.

"I'm not supposed to go listening at doors; honest, I know I'm not. But Master Barimus threatened to get out of bed himself if I didn't start finding out the going-ons of the Council. I've been passing notes between he and the new Wizard Guard captains Peoter-Dieter. But I haven't been telling Master Barimus everything, nor do the twins know that I know a lot more than what they're telling me. The captains have been doing their best to keep the Council from doing something stupid. But they've gone and done it anyway, giving magic to the soldiers."

Theresa paused for a moment to look at her garden hoe, a conflicted look passing over her face. "It not a bad thing for us normal people to have magiked things; spells and what not are quite a help at times. You know all about it, being that its your profession to help us folk with charms and things. Lots of us have encantered… Um, en-whatered things," She stumbled over the word.

"Enchanted?" Howl offered, listening with captivated seriousness.

"That's it, enchanted things! Ingary itself is soaked in magic like a dish rag that's gone dripping with water. Now, I'm an herbalist and I know that lots of things have magic in them just because that's the natural way of things. Like you said, Master Howl, everything's got magic in it. But the Councilors are gathering up the things, helpful and not, like they're all bad or something. I heard a couple of wizard guards talking about it. They're afraid that the monsters will get into our world through from the bad place through the things." Theresa whispered in a low voice as she leaned closer to Howl, "I shouldn't know this, but they're burning them in big magic circles."

"King Ferdinand's at it as well. He made some decree about there being no daemons allowed in the capital no more. That's what I mean when I say the Council's gone and done something stupid because they're agreeing with him. They're in fits over the shield, Master Howl; you know, the gold one Martha and I couldn't see. Because of that they're passing out enchanted bells like candy to the soldiers because there aren't enough of the Wizard's Guards to go around any more. They're all scared about daemons getting through the Wall. But I don't see what difference brick makes to spirits, Master Howl,"

Howl realized that Theresa was referring to the wall that surrounded the Kingsbury Palace. She probably had no idea that the Councilors were speaking of the Dull Wall in the otherworld. Equally, she probably did not know the place even existed. But he did not clarify for fear an interruption would stop the girl from speaking. The Wallmaker realized that Theresa knew far more about what was happening in the capital than he had realized. Plus, Howl very much needed to know what she did. Barimus had created quite an effective spy. Furthermore, the tall wizard was impressed by her understanding of magic and daemons. Realizing his attention was drifting, the blue-eyed man returned his attention to the freckle-faced girl.

"But the soldiers are scared," She continued hastily, "They don't understand that the bell rings no matter what, even if something's not harmful at all. Lots of witches and wizard, including some of the Council, are in fits over this because some of their magic is only possible through friendly spirits. Now I know that not all daemons are bad. Like Calcifer, and he's family! But everyone seems to have forgotten about that. It's like the enchanted things; they want to get rid of all the daemons just to be safe."

Again her voice dropped low as her face when blank with horror, "They pointed guns at me when the bell rang because of my garden hoe! But the Captains were there and told them off something awful! They're doing it to lots of normal people and they're dragging them in for questioning and what not, all because of the big monster. But that's not all; I'm not witchy, Master Howl, but I know a thing or two. You can't spray poison over all the plants in a garden and expect only the weeds to die: everything will wither and then the good soil washes away. It's like the enchanted things. They're banishing all the daemons they find in the red circles I can't see, but they don't stop to make sure that they're not nice ones. It's not right, Master Howl!"

The fact that the soldiers had pointed guns at the little red-haired girl gave Howl an absolute shock. But it was more than that. Any half-wit sorcerer would understand the perilous ramifications of the extreme approach King Ferdinand was implementing. It was a flagrant violation of the rules that governed the use of magic in this world, which in turn affected the balance he strove so hard to preserve in the otherworld.

"Fools…" Howl murmured harshly as he shot to his feet towering rigid with fury, which gave Theresa quite a fright.

"Did I do something wrong, Master Howl?" Theresa asked anxiously, her face white with worry.

"No, not at all Theresa," As Howl turned the mercurial nature of his mood transformed into a bright smile and a carefree composure that masked his inner turmoil, "Thank you for telling me what you know. I think you should tell Barimus as well but do so under heavy threat of further drugging. You should perhaps tell Martha as well, but no one else. Tell my brother I'm working on this and not to do a thing until I come back. Alright?"

Theresa nodded with determined expression on her face. Howl couldn't help but smile because he saw that same look on Martha's face. How quickly the bonds of kinship formed when it came to love.

"You're a very smart hedge witch, Theresa. You should come by the castle, our family misses you," Howl replied warmly as he turned to go.

"Wait, Master Howl. Would you give this to Markl?" Theresa called after him, holding out a small white envelope. Noting the bright pink color in the girl's cheeks as he took it the Wallmaker smirked wordlessly and tucked it into one of the pockets in his great checkered coat.

The Wallmaker left the room fully intending to kick the King of Ingary square in the seat of his pants.

xXx

Sophie pulled her straw hat over her eyes, doing her best not to scream in frustration.

"What is she doing, mother?" Shan asked curiously as he tugged at her apron and then turned his blue eyes to gaze down the alley to where Drie was squatting. The tall silver haired girl was regarding a bucket of coal dust left behind by a chimney sweep with earnest fascination. This was the third time her daughter had run off with a cry of surprise to regard some bit of trash of junk as though it were some long lost treasure beyond all compare. It had taken them nearly a half hour to walk the five blocks from the Hatter's shop towards the town square. Mother Hatter was not at home and Sophie's witchy sense told her the blonde woman was at her middle sister's second home. At this rate it would take them until sundown to reach Cesari's bakery. At first the silver sorceress had tried to be understanding; she had no idea what kind of life her girl had experienced up until now. Deirdre had not spoken of it yet, nor did she give any indication she cared to. But that was beside the point; who in their right mind stared at a bucket of ashes? This was beginning to get ridiculous.

"Deirdre, let's go!" Sophie called impatiently, trying not to sound too cross.

"Can't you hear them?" Drie asked in a distracted voice. Suddenly she smiled brilliantly and giggled, her gaze still glued to the bucket.

"Hear what?" Markl asked cautiously, his curiosity getting the better of him. The brown-eyed woman let out an exasperated sigh and began to smooth Shan's hair which had gone wild in the light summer breeze. This was the first time the strange child-woman had indicated there was anything out of the ordinary about the things she had been investigating.

"Look there. Can't you see them?" Akarshan's twin asked as she pointed a graceful finger at the bucket.

The young wizard crept up behind his tall sister and gazed nervously at the pail.

"No… All I see is soot." Howl's apprentice replied sullenly, obviously disappointed.

"That's because you're not looking right," She replied in a guileless voice with a bright smile, turning to look over her shoulder at the russet haired boy with eyes that were completely black. Markl gave a violent start and stumbled back against the wall, going white as a sheet. But she blinked in surprise and her eyes were suddenly blue.

"Are you okay?" Deirdre asked with a confused frown as she straightened and was forced to look down at the brown-eyed young man.

"I'm fine," The apprentice replied uneasily, avoiding her gaze as he turned and fled from the alleyway followed at a distance by the silver haired child-woman. The exchange in the alleyway was missed by Sophie, who had been occupying her youngest son by explaining the magic in the ring with the red stone Howl had given her. She straightened as Markl walked past her at a brisk pace. The silver sorceress had to hurry to catch up with her husband's apprentice, half dragging Shan by the hand.

"What's got into Markl? Markl!" The brown-eyed woman asked of no one in particular and then called after her eldest son as he wove through the crowd in front of them.

"You're going to fast, mommy!" Shan had to skip and jump to keep up with his mother, "Carry me?"

Wordlessly the silver-haired mother picked up her son and hefted him onto her hip. But she didn't get very far before she was puffing and had to set him down again.

"I'm sorry cherub, you're too big. I can't pick your for very long," she replied hastily, standing on her toes to keep sight of the russet haired boy in the crowd of townsfolk that walked around them, "Wait for us, Markl!"

"Gotcha!" Drie laughed as she swooped down behind her brother and scooped him up. Settling the boy onto her shoulders, the tall child-woman stood and began walking beside her mother as though her brother weighed nothing. Sophie caught herself staring in surprise; she could barely lift her boy onto the kitchen bench without trouble.

"Whee!" Shan cried as Drie whirled in a circle and he grabbed a hold of his sister's head to stabilize himself before grinning down at the silver haired witch, "Look, mommy, I'm taller than you!"

"Fly me, sister!" The raven-haired boy squealed and began making airplane noises as his twin threw out her arms and began careening in circles around their mother. As they buzzed further and further from the silver witch, Markl appeared at Sophie's side. The young wizard regarded his siblings with a serious face.

"Is that a good idea?" He asked in an even voice.

"Oh! You scared me, Markl. What? I'm sure she won't drop Shan," Sophie replied in a light-hearted voice as she stretched her back as she watched the twins play, "Besides, he's little enough he'll bounce if she does." Markl frowned and was silent.

That wasn't quite what he meant.

xXx

Shan was absolutely baffled.

Auntie Lettie had nearly fainted when one of the shop girls ushered them into the upstairs office from which the pastry queen ruled her catering business. Since marrying the son of the café owner, a tall gentle breadmaker with a handsome smile, the feisty Hatter's daughter had completed a successful culinary coup of the cafe. His eldest auntie stared at his mother like she was a ghost. The blonde woman had burst into tears and handed off the new little girl on her hip to his cousin Tilly before she tackled Sophie. His auntie then sent his younger cousin Milly to fetch Grandma Honey from the café downstairs. The older blond woman had nearly knocked his mother over as she came running from somewhere at full tilt. Her scream still rang in his ears. His mommy had gone away for a while, but she hadn't been gone that long. Girls were ever so silly. They fussed about the strangest things, like dresses, dirt, and frogs.

And bugs too, he couldn't forget bugs.

"Why are those ladies crying on mommy?" Drie whispered to him.

"Huh?" Shan replied as he settled back onto her shoulders, giving up on trying to touch the ceiling. He then waved vigorously at his cousins, who were staring up at him enviously.

"Dunno. The young one is mommy's sister Lettie and the old one is her mother, Grandma Honey. You'd think they would be happy to see her. But you know how grown-ups are. They get upset about strange things," Shan replied sagely and Drie nodded at his wise words. Markl gave a snort at his younger brother's words, although he kept his distance from the tearful woman as though he sense he were next in line to be soaked.

"Is Martha alright? Have you heard from her?" Honey asked with unbridled distress, the little purple hat in her hair all askew.

"She's fine, mother. We're all fine," Sophie smiled gently, dabbing at her mother's tears with her apron.

"Look at you, Markl! You get bigger every time I see you. How's your redhead?" Lettie seized Howl's apprentice with a grin, gossip gleaming in her eyes. The auburn haired boy went white with panic and then red with embarrassment as his aunt squeezed him vigorously.

"Goodness!" The bossy baker exclaimed with surprise as she caught sight of Deirdre and Markl retreated from her grasp in her distraction, "I didn't know Howl had a sister, Sophie. I though you said that he's an orphan?"

"She's not papa's sister; she's my sister!" Shan laughed out loud as he hugged the silver-haired child-woman's head possessively. The boy gave a sad whine, which echoed in the silence that followed his words, as Deirdre lifted her twin from her shoulders and sat him on the ground. Both Honey and Lettie regarded Sophie with white faced shock.

"This is my daughter," the silver sorceress replied without hesitation as she disentangled herself from the platinum haired woman and reached a hand towards her girl, "Her name is Deirdre and she's Akarshan's twin."

Shan didn't understand much about what happened after that. He found himself standing in the hallway outside Lettie's office holding Drie's hand with Markl hot on their heels. The door slammed shut behind them. A second later it opened, Tilly emerged hastily with her new sister in her arms and Milly by the hand. The three blonde little girls were like tiny replicas of their mother, dressed in identical pink ruffled Cesari's uniforms. The children stared at one another wordlessly as the door slammed again and high voices filtered through the walls.

Apparently the grown-ups were going to have a discussion.

"What are the ladies upset about, Markl?" Drie asked in a worried voice as she regarded her elder brother.

"They're not mad, Deirdre," The apprentice replied evasively.

"She's wearing trousers!" Milly exclaimed in wonder as she regarded her tall cousin, "Why can't I wear trousers?"

"Who cares about trousers? Let's go play!" Shan cried in glee and reached his arms up towards his tall sister, "Pick me up, Drie. I want to be tall again."

"Can I be tall too?" Tilly asked breathlessly as she handed off the little girl to Milly, who frowned petulantly.

"What about me?" The younger girl cried shrilly as she handed her sister to Markl, "Here, you hold her."

The baby regarded the wizard's apprentice with wide sapphire eyes and then began to cry. Markl gave a violent start and held the blond little girl at arms length, regarding her with bald-faced terror.

"She doesn't like me! You take her!" He handed the girl back to Milly, who frowned up at her cousin crossly. But the baby stopped crying the moment she left his hands.

"I can only take two at a time. But don't worry, I'll come back for you," Drie smile at the small girl. With that she scooped up Shan and Tilly into her arms before tearing off along the wide open hallway that lined the top floor of the café.

"Stay on the balcony!" Markl called after them with a sour frown as their shrieks echoed off of the roofs and walls of the gabled building around them. He settled against the wall and pulled a book that was so impossibly large it could never have fit in the pouch at his waist from which it had emerged. Milly settled next to him in a huff, momentarily waking her sister who began to squall again. The blond little four-year-old gazed over the apprentice's elbow to at his book curiously. Markl gave a sigh and began to read aloud about locomotion spells.

xXx

"Faster!" Shan cried.

Deirdre zipped up and down the stairs that led from one balcony to the other with tirelessly. The silver haired girl blurred she was moving so fast she barely touched the ground. Not that she needed to use her feet, in fact she didn't.

"Too fast!" Tilly squealed fearfully, clinging madly to her cousin as they zipped along the gallery at a dizzying speed. Suddenly a door opened in front of them and the child-woman veered to the side to avoid crashing into it. The blonde little girl screamed in terror as they spilled over the banister. But the ground fell away from them as the half-daemon shot upwards on the otherwind, propelled into the vastness above on feathered silver wings that tore through her shirt from her back. Free of all human fear, a joyous cry beyond language sand from her lips as they flew up into the bright blue sky overhead. The city shrank small beneath them, swallowed by the vast green fields and snow capped mountains loomed large in the wastes.

"We're flying Drie!" The raven-haired twin cried exuberantly as the wind tore at their hair, "Let's go find the castle!"

"I don't want to play anymore!" Tilly screeched hysterically, her white face buried in Drie's shirt, "Stop! STOP!"

But it was not the little girl's plea that suddenly tore the child-woman from the mindless ecstasy of flight. A voice cried out in her mind, blossoming a tortured red in her mind in the way blood wells from a deep wound. Pursuing the cry was the sound of a bell, small and clear like the chimes in her father's room. But this bell sounded with the knell of death without dying. As they banked wildly, Shan gave a panicked shout as Deirdre's eyes went black and the sapphires at her ears pulsed brightly. The sky before them ripped in the way fabric cleaves before the sharpest of knives. The balcony on the fourth floor of Cesari's showed plainly through the portal.

As the three of them plunged through it, they disappeared from the sky.

xXx

A great wind stirred Markl's hair and the pages of his book turned wildly.

The smell of magic filled his nose and the Wallmaker's apprentice shot to his feet, giving Milly a scare. The little girl had fallen asleep next to him not far into his description of how to draw the proper vectors for circle magic associated with non-human locomotion. Tossing aside the book, Markl walked quickly down the balcony listening intently. He realized all at once he could no longer hear his brother's laughter. The russet haired apprentice was about to call out when the door to Lettie's office burst open to show nothing by empty blue sky. A second later Deirdre erupted from the doorway on a violent gale fed by enormous silver wings. Her eyes were black as midnight and the pale skin of her hands had transformed into claws. She touched down for a moment to gently deposit Shan and Tilly on the wooden floor before bounding over the balustrade and rocketing off into the village. Markl was thrown from his feet by the power of her otherwind as the blue dissolved behind her to reveal his silver haired mother.

"Deirdre!" The silver sorceress shrieked as she clung to the doorframe let she be knocked from her feet.

But the child-woman was gone.

xXx

As she fell from the sky above Market Chipping, Deirdre knew exactly where she was.

She had lived in this house not long ago.

The bell grew louder in her ears, filling her with fury, as the ground rushed up beneath her and the cobble stones of the back alley shattered beneath her feet. This was where she had met her brother for the first time. It felt like ages ago. It was before Mrs. Danna put a daemon in her soul; before she had gone to the twilight place between worlds; before she had met the other. But Deirdre wasn't thinking about that; her mind was fixed with such singularity on the cry for help.

No one but she could hear the cry; it was a daemon's voice, a soot spirit who lived in the fireplace. She had seen him once as a child while she was hiding from Mrs. Danna in fireplace they never used. The little spirit had made her smile with wonder and she had kept him secret from the cold healer, who had a powerful hatred of daemons. Her wings dissolved around her in a flurry of silver feathers as she stormed up the back steps. The door splintered before her. Inside everything was as it had been before: empty, plain, and sterile. She breezed through the small kitchen, half flying down the dark narrow hallway and the door into the living room burst open before her.

Three men stood in the living room. The two in blue were mortal as could be; they held their guns as though they expected to die at any moment. The third was dress in brilliant red and the Wallmaker's daughter knew at once the man was a sorcerer of little skill. He held a bell aloft in one hand and a circle mirror in the other. A flash of red blinded her for a moment as the cry and the bell suddenly ceased. Her sight returned a second later only for her to see the twisting points of red in the burned place beyond the hungry barrier reflected in the glass the wizard held. She knew it was there that the coal daemon had been sent.

"NO!" Deirdre screamed in anguish.

Suddenly the bell in the sorcerer's hand began chiming with raucous clangs, vibrating so violently it almost ripped itself from the wizard's grasp. The three men turned startled eyes at the white faced woman who materialized in the doorway. But a moment later it was not a woman who stood in the doorway. The soldier's cocked their guns as the half-daemon stalked forward; the shots echoed deafeningly in the small space. The bullets surged harmlessly through the living column of inky water, which rematerialized into the woman's shape. The creature shouted a word in a spidery language, which crawled through the human's minds like a spider. The guns in the soldier's hands erupted into white flames. The red garbed sorcerer shouted another word in the strange speech of magic and the mirror in his hand flashed as a red circle burst into red light beneath Deirdre's feet.

She could barely move, although if she were a full daemon the child-woman would not have been able to move at all. But wild panic filled her to the point of senselessness, pushing from her all thoughts as she realized the wizard was going to send her to the burned place. She knew she would never come back from that horrible scorched world where the sky boiled like fire held no stars. The plains of pain meant death without dying and an eternity of suffering. She would never see her family again.

In that moment the bell stopped ringing and the mirror in the wizard's hand cracked.


	4. Chapter 4: Hunger

Just want to send out a special thank you to my fearless reader Vitatim E (she knows who she is). She is solely responsible for editing the next few chapers!

As always, thank you so much for reading!

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**The Daemon Wars: Part IV of the Wallmaker Saga**

**Chapter 4: Hunger**

Howl managed to walk through the palace without having any more soldiers point guns at him.

The raven haired wizard hated guns, he hated bullets, and he hated any kind of weapon that brought about needless violence. But he loved technology. He had brought an old dilapidated perambulator back to the castle once, not long after Akarshan was born. Sophie had teased him about being taken in by a lemon, and scolded him for being lazy. But she ended up eating her words, as he dismantled the contraption outside the shop to see how it worked. He pulled apart every gear and piston, all the while making detailed drawings in one of the many sketchbooks that cluttered his workshop and bedroom. After he had finished, he abandoned the pile of junk to the street, turning his attention to another project. It had sat rusting on their doorstep, until Sophie hauled it off to some salvage yard in Kingsbury. He was always dragging home bits of clocks and anything with gears, pulleys and odd little twirling bits. Science was very much like magic: it was formulaic and cerebral. Plus, it gave him something to do besides teaching his family magic and keeping shop. But more and more he found himself spending endless hours in the otherworld looking for places where the Dull Wall had begun to erode.

Recently the Wallmaker had little time for technology.

It seemed like there was nothing but magic in his life now. It was funny, people without the gift went on and on, wishing they had magic as if all their problems would disappear if they could wiggle their fingers and conjure a cup of tea. But the truth of the matter was magic wasn't any better at solving the world's problems than science. Witches and wizards squabbled just as much as the fish monger's wife, possibly even more. They still caught colds and broke bones. And yet, when the world went to hell in a hand basket, it became their job to fix everything that science and brawn could not.

Howl thought of the broken glass spire in the shield room and how many sorcerers and sorceresses it took to keep the dome functioning under stress. The shield had served its purpose, but it was a travesty of construction. The dome trapped in all magical things as much as it kept them out. It was a brilliant plan at first, until the reaching effects were considered. Wizards and daemons both were prevented from entering and leaving and what kind of solution was that? As he always did when brooding on how quickly witches and wizards turned to enchanted solutions with out thinking of the consequences, his mind turned to the Dull Wall. The black barrier had been born from blood and tears, and was sustained by similar circumstances. There had to be a better way.

And then there were the bells.

Howl clenched his fists as he walked in the empty corridors, imaging the look on the emperor's face as he chucked the king's desk through a window. Perhaps he should throw Ferdinand himself? But the Wallmaker was not as hot-headed as he had been in his youth. He understood too well that people quickly abdicated their ability to think when magic was involved, especially those without experience or understanding. Mortals believed blindly that when all else failed magic, will save them. But that was the problem with magic: it made no qualms about how it was used. King Ferdinand had acted with the best of intentions. However, the barrel-chested man did not understand that the enchanted bells would ring just as loud for a daemon of the Dark, as it would for a curly haired little girl who held a magic garden hoe. Magic is a tool to be used, not the solution to every problem. And that was the rub: like guns and bombs, magic was frequently used without thinking.

And there was another problem: the Ingarian Emperor, and half the Council for that matter, seemed to have forgotten that not all daemons were evil. The ancients and humans maintained a very tenuous balance, for the most part existing unseen in one another's company, both in the mortal world and beyond the indigo veil. During the Mage Wars there had been as much fighting among humans and daemons as there was among the warring wizards. From what he had read, it was a dark time clouded by uncertainty. Luckily, a truce had been chartered shortly after the Wall was built.

However, daemons were as wary of the mad spirits that were contained by the Dull Wall as humans were. Just like a wolf pack abandons a member who had been taken by rabies, most spirits would avoid a Dark Daemon at all costs. For the most part the untouched ancients kept their own council, and had little interest in the doings of their mad cousins. Nor did they seem to care about what wizards did with them. However, it would be disastrous to anger the ancients that lingered in the mortal world, and unnecessary banishing would do just that. Howl only hoped it was early enough to demand that a witch or wizard go with the soldiers on their daemon hunting forays. Perhaps the red-coats would bring some reason to the searching.

The tall raven-haired man took a sharp corner in the way a person does when they know exactly where they are going. However, he was torn from his thoughts and brought to a complete stop by an odious smell. The stench made him want to wretch. It was the smell of powerful magic, and the worst kind: blood magic. Howl back-tracked, letting his nose guide him through the winding labyrinth of richly furbished corridors that filled the palace. But as he passed through an archway, the walls suddenly turned black and scorched. Broken furniture littered the corridor and the halls were dark; no servants would be coming here to light the candles. A cold draft filtered down the hallway, smelling of fresh air over the overpowering stink of black sorcery. The lanky man knew if he continued on his present course he would arrive at the shattered stairwell that lead up to the remnants of the shield room.

But it was not from that direction that the smell issued.

Along the corridor a doorway stood open. Someone had barred the way into the room with a knotted length of spirit paper. It was folk magic; some would call it old knowledge because the tradition came from so long ago many couldn't remember why it was done. An enormous length of the finest white paper was folded in intricate pleats and curls until it formed an unbroken chain. It was said that bad spirits would be trapped forever in the endless turns of the folds and be unable to pass.

The stench wafted from the open doorway.

Respectfully, the Wallmaker ducked under the chain so as not to disturb it and stepped into the chamber. As he straightened, the handsome wizard resisted the urge to empty his stomach, not that he had eaten anything that day. Glass crunched beneath his feet as he walked forward, regarding the narrow shattered mirror that reached from floor to ceiling in each of the corners of the room. In the center of the chamber was a chair, and the pale cream silk of the upholstery was stained with what Howl could see in his othersense was blood. There was another large stain on the carpet not far from the seat. But he was distracted from his cool observations by the fact that he could smell the Dark here. It had been a long time since he had thought about the wickedness beyond the Dull Wall; but he no longer feared it. It was the darkness in mankind that filled him with trepidation; humanity had been making enough of its own evil recently. The emerald around his neck burned against his skin. It was a cold kind of fire, that brought knowledge he should not have known. His skin crawled as he suddenly knew that two people died horribly in this room, it was almost as though he could hear the faded mournful wails. One was Councilor Raia; this was her room and the mirror only confirmed it. But who was the other? Howl moved beyond that thought as he realized their lives had been taken to do portal magic.

It was here that the mad daemons had been loosed into the world.

But how? He had not sensed weakness in the Dull Wall. There were no tell-tale echoes beyond the indigo veil that spoke of a breech. And yet there had most definitely been one. All at once he recalled what Sophie had told him about the empty woman emerging from their daughter. The silver sorceress had only dim memories of her girl forcing the daemon into the Wall to form a door. As Howl stood in that place, the lingering threads of death and horror faded as he began piecing together what had happened. Because Deirdre was of the Wallmaker's blood, the hungry barrier would have obeyed her, even if she was creating a passage through the coal bricks. The keeper of the balance suddenly flew into a violent rage, the bits of glass at his feet tinkling as his otherwind tore about the room. That was why Danna stole their daughter, why she put a daemon in her soul; so she would have access to the madness beyond the Wall. But why? What the hell would have driven a healer to murder and blood sorcery?

The connection between Earin Danna and the old senile councilor suddenly burned like a brand in the Wallmaker's mind.

There was much more to this story, Howl realized as he calmed. The prophecy Raia had written felt very heavy in his sleeve. Something in his memories plagued him to the point of distraction, but it lingered just beyond his grasp. Why couldn't he remember? It was like a fog filled his head, preventing him from recalling anything about Suliman's sister. And yet the wizard knew he remembered the woman, or at least what she had been before she went insane. His memories were like a painting that had faded in the bright sun to the dimmest of outlines. He recalled only fractured pieces of the woman: her kind hands and the swishing of her long green skirts.

She and his teacher had not been close; that much he could surmise from the lack of any memory of the sisters together. Howl wished he could ask Barimus more about Danna; his brother was older than he, and perhaps knew more of the cold woman. But the Royal Wizard was greatly out of sorts at the moment, and refused to talk about the woman. Earin had been good once, that much was for certain. She had cared for him when he was very ill as a child. What could have possibly happened to cause her to change so much?

Quitting the room, Howl flew like a wild bird to the Ingarian Library, completely forgetting the appointment he had scheduled for his boot and the emperor's backside.

The Wallmaker frightened several apprentices as he strode into the great open atrium. It had been ages since he had visited this place, and it still made him feel small to stand in the middle of so many books he had never read. The raven-haired man noticed a group of apprentices staring at him with open-mouthed abandon. Of the two girls one was fair, plump, and pretty, while the other was dark, thin, and horsey. A young wizard with brown coloring sprouted from between them like a weed, as tall as he was thin. They had the look of friends about them. The kids continued to stare at him and Howl smiled dazzlingly, making a great show of swaggering into the shelves as he went to hunt for enrollment records. The clerks in Ingary were known for the sharpness of pens, and the immaculate detail of their accounts; records were the one true way to track down anyone who passed through the palace. Perhaps a timeline would help him understand and provide him with the missing clue.

If it did not, he was going to have to talk to Deirdre. Howl was keenly aware of balances, and did not want to disturb his daughter's fragile existence unless it was absolutely necessary. Her life had been traumatic enough, and she didn't need her father lumbering about in her mind uncovering painful memories.

Turning his thoughts back to the library, he began hunting for books. When he was a child, still barely an apprentice, Howl had poured over the set of huge tomes that held the tiny signatures of all the witches and wizards who had studied at the Royal Academy. It had taken him months, but he eventually found his mother's name, written in lovely curling swirls not far from his father's unintelligible scrawl. He also found his uncle's signature, and many more of the Jenkins family written in the great books. There were names for the other colleges of study that were housed at the capital, and it was for this that Howl was searching. The healer's guild kept immaculate records. However, the wizard was quite at a loss for where to find the ledgers. It seemed he could find every spell book and scroll he had read as a child, but not what he was looking for. The raven-haired man entertained a childish fit of frustration and kicked a tiny wheeled stepping stool that went spinning off down the marble floored corridor.

"Can I help you, sir?" Asked a light voice from directly behind him.

The Wallmaker leapt bolt upright and spun to regard the small woman. She gave him a dour frown, and regarded him with grey eyes over the glasses sliding down her nose. The librarian cast her gaze around the handsome wizard to watch the wheeled stool gyrate down the stacks. As she peered up at him expectantly, she slipped books back onto the shelf with such silent efficiency it was no wonder he didn't hear her. A braid as thick as his wrist slung over her shoulder, the brown of her hair trying madly to escape at every twist. Fixing her with his most dapper of smiles, the wizard told her of his need.

"Hmph, is that all?" She replied in a business like manner, completely unaffected by his charms and then went whisking off into the maze of shelving that filled the room. Like a lame duck, Howl followed after her. It took the small woman seconds to find the books he had been hunting after for nearly an hour.

So much for all knowing sorcerers.

Carrying his heavy burden to a table near the still gawking students, Howl began leafing through the gigantic pages of tiny names. The Wallmaker realized he was in the wrong volume and was about to close the book, when he caught sight of a name that made him stop. There, on the very bottom corner of the page, placed as though even the book was trying to forget her, was written the tiny neat print of the name, Earin Danna. This was back when she was still Earin Suliman. As he peered closer, it looked as if someone had attempted to erase the minute letters, tried so hard they had ripped the vellum. But the blue-eyed man paused.

This couldn't be right; Mrs. Danna wasn't a witch. According to Calcifer the cold woman was completely non-magical, and had turned to daemon magic in order to wield any power. Hence, she had enrolled in the healer's guild. The Wallmaker pulled open another of the huge ledgers, and found Danna's name again, written in neat print under the healer's guild. But the date was off by about ten years difference. It appeared that Earin had originally enrolled in the Ingarian Sorcery Academy at the proper age of six. Following the name up the column to find the name of her master, a cold place settled into the pit of the raven-haired man's stomach. There at the top of the page was Councilor Raia's name.

The doors to the library burst open, as the red-haired young wizard that had shouted at Howl earlier that day, came tearing into the room. He skidded to a halt near his friends and hastily arranged the black velvet of his robes. The apprentices were regarding Nalir as though he sprouted a tail; apparently this was not characteristic behavior for the vain boy. He gasped and coughed, trying to catch his breath.

"Out with it you silly thing," The words spouted from the horsey girl in a jumble of syllables.

"I just heard Peoter-Deiter tell the king they found daemons in Market Chipping!" The red-haired boy gasped, "I heard somebody got killed!"

Howl was on his feet and out the door, which slammed after him, giving everyone in the atrium a fright.

xXx

The bell silenced, but Deirdre remained.

Bright terror bloomed within the child-woman as she felt a keen sense of vertigo. The circle beneath her feet changed, but not due to any of her magic. The angry red of its hue faded to an icy blue, casting cold pale light in the dark room. The magic in the artifacts the crimson-garbed sorcerer held, drained away as the cerulean ring seemed to draw in a great breath, like a living thing. A look of unadulterated astonishment passed across the wizard's face, as the mirror in his hand cracked and went dark. The soldiers dropped their weapons as the silver fire disintegrated the guns into ash. As swiftly as it had left, mobility returned to the Wallmaker's daughter. The silver-haired girl crumbled to her knees, weak and light-headed with elation, due to the fact she was still in the mortal world.

But as the otherwind eddied up around her, Deirdre realized she was not alone.

Familiar hands lifted her up, and with an electric jolt Drie turned her eyes to gaze at the other. Door loomed over her, gently holding up the child-woman. The half-daemon wore a perfect replica of the same small white frock from the day they split. The Wallmaker's daughter clung to her twin, as the blue-eyed woman was struck by how sick Door looked. There were dark circles under her eyes and grime smeared on her face. The billowing tresses of her impossibly long silver hair were dirty and matted. But the tenderness of their embrace was marred by the other's gaze, which was fixed with such venomous hatred on the terrified humans that Drie went cold with dread.

In that moment Door's sapphire eyes went black and fathomless.

Returning to his senses, the red garbed wizard stepped in front of the blubbering soldiers, as he tossed aside the bell and mirror. His hand erupted into green-yellow fire as he spoke a burning word in the language of magic, and stabbed his finger at the twins. Simultaneously, Door threw out one of her hands, which was black as night with obsidian claws. She snatched the word from the air in the manner one seizes a fly. But the daemon grasped something tangible. As she pulled, the power drained from the man, as the flame surrounding his hand extinguished. With a guttural moan, the wizard took an involuntary step forward, as a look of absolute horror twisted his face. The stranger spasmed in agony as Door twisted her fingers, her cruel high laugh piercing the silence in the room. The years seemed to drain from the sorcerer; where once his face had been youthful, it creased with lines, and the brown of his hair peppered with grey.

"No!" Deirdre screamed as she lunged at the other. The circle beneath them extinguished and the man crumbled to the ground. Door threw off her other-half as though she weighed nothing. The child-woman crashed backwards into the fireplace, shattering a huge divot in the stone bricks. But the daughter of the silver sorceress bounced back without a scratch. The half-daemon rounded on her doppelganger with a snarl. In a voice that echoed like an incomprehensible nightmare through the mind's of all present, Door spoke in the language of ancient spirits.

_I protect you! _The half-daemon growled as her human form dissolved, and the creature reared up as a twisting column of living water.

_Killing is wrong! _Deirdre replied in a speech she did not know she knew, reaching out to the other pleadingly.

_What of the little brother, the coal spirit? He is lost to the burned place!_

But the child-woman could find no words to respond to that truth. Drie was besieged by the other's sorrow for the loss of the soot spirit, and together they grieved. Over the heavy gloom of their mourning, Door's terror of the plains of pain blew briefly like a gust of frozen wind through the window of her mind. But the ice turned to fire, evaporating under the overwhelming burning hatred the daemon felt for the humans in the room.

_After all that we do for these mortals the Wizards turn on us. They kill all of us, not just the mad ones. Why? What have we done? Nothing!_

_They're scared…_ Drie replied lamely, shrinking from the boiling creature. She could not speak of Mrs. Danna at that moment; the words seemed to freeze in her throat before the other's fury.

_SCARED? _Doorboomedthunderously. _I will give them reason to fear! Kill them! Kill them all and take back our world!_

Until that moment the faceless uniformed soldiers had been cowering in mad panic from the horrible sounds issuing from the monster before them. Suddenly one of the men mastered his fear enough to pull a small revolver from his boot. The blue garbed man uttered a hoarse cry, as he stumbled to his feet and began shooting wildly. Deirdre gave a startled cry as one of the bullets struck her in the arm, and the door daemon whirled, surging forward with blinding speed to consume the young solider. The Wallmaker's daughter clamped her hands over her ears, in spite of the pain in her arm. Sinking to the floor, the child-woman stared blankly at the wood grain as she strove to block the sound from her mind.

The human's hideous shriek dwindled to a gurgle, and then silenced.

Drie flinched as inky water gathered beside her, and flowed upwards into her human form. Soft hands once again touched her, examining the place where the bullet had pierced her flesh; but no blood oozed from the wound. In spite of her mirror image's compassion, which blossomed in her mind like a gentle field of lilacs, she could not look at Door. The daemon had just killed a man; no, she _ate_ him. The girl shrank away from the hands, as she was gripped by intense aversion. Suddenly, the other pulled Drie against her in a fierce embrace. Desperate worry flooded the child-woman, plunging her into a deluge of Door's conflicting emotions.

_Fear them, not me. They will kill you, they will kill me. Don't let them. _

The daemon pleaded and commanded simultaneously, reading her thoughts as only she could. Carefully, Door pulled Deirdre to her feet, being gentle not to jar her arm. With graceful pale hands, the other turned her face to stare deeply into her eyes. How lovely she was, but again Drie was struck by the sickness that clung to her doppelganger. Something had happened to the other; something horrible. Questions filled Drie as she stared at her twin. Where had she gone? What had happened after they had parted ways? What did she know about Mrs. Danna?

Door shook her head as though to discharge Drie's uncertainty. But the intensity in the half-daemon's gaze shook the child-woman to her core. At that moment there was so much turmoil in her other-half, the Wallmaker's daughter could hardly think. But Deirdre clung to the revelation in the other's eyes, which seemed to anchor her within the flood of emotion. Within the shattered tendrils of the myriad of whispering thoughts, came a truth that bound her like a net to the daemon. So much had changed since the last time she saw her other; before the daemon hated her, had raged against her and all humans. Yes, she had killed a man, but Door had done so only to protect her.

Door loved her.

xXx

The residence was like any other in the row of town houses that lined the narrow streets of Market Chipping; but perhaps a little shabby next to its cousins.

The multicolored gabled roofs of row houses looked like people on a crowded rail-perambulator. They were jammed so closely to one another they had to stretch upwards to fit along the merrily winding cobbled streets. In the waning afternoon light the street was quiet, and the setting summer sun cast everything in warm pastels. But all was not well. Anyone with the gift of magic would be knocked from their feet by the overpowering stench of potent magic that emanated from the dilapidated house. However, there were no people in the paved avenue because everyone, including any wizards that might have been about, was at home enjoying dinner. As such, there was no one to startle when the great silver bird woman dropped from the sky like a burning comet.

The front door to the empty house splintered inwards under the boot of the sorceress of the silver flame. Sophie stormed through the shattered carapace on the furious gale of her otherwind, silver feathers dissolving all around her. The small woman was surrounded by a nimbus of cold, steel-colored radiance as she thrust forward her fist, lead by a beam of red light that issued from the ring on her finger. Sophie had flown from Cecari's café on a wind greater than the northern gale, in mad pursuit of her daughter. She did not think about what her mother and sister thought, having witness her transformation into a great winged creature. She did not think of the hundreds of people in the great square that might have seen her flying. Nor did she think of her sons, who were probably back at the castle worried sick, and wondering where their mother was.

All Sophie could think about was finding Drie. The horrible events of that night clung to her, like the long shadows of dawn herald the ever-present night. She was still exhausted, she was still angry, but most of all she was still terrified. Terrified that Mrs. Danna could turn up at any moment; terrified that she would once again become a powerless old woman. But most of all, she was terrified of losing her daughter again. Casting wild brown eyes around the chaos, she finally fixed her piercing gaze on Deirdre.

The tall child-woman stood completely alone in the middle of the room.

The girl had a look of devastation on her face, one that melted to surprise as she swayed, like something firm had been taken from her. Sophie might have uttered a great sigh of relief, and ran to comfort the child, if not for the smell. The strange magic hung about her girl, like a cloud of sweet-smelling poisonous mist in the brown-eyed woman's othersight. It was so strong the silver sorceress almost choked. It disturbed her greatly to see the wisps of black and red clinging to her child. Thin ripples of magic reverberated in her mind, heralding the fact that something dire had happened here. Something had called Deirdre here, but what?

Suddenly, Sophie recognized that the smell of othermagic, faded with time. But as she sorted it from the multi-sensory messages of her othersight, the stench reared up in her mind. The Wallmaker's wife nearly lost her composure, as she felt crushed by the echo of Mrs. Danna that lingered all around her in the house like a ghost. But she was ripped from her panic as one of the two men huddled in the corner, that the brown-eyed woman had not noticed, whimpered softly. Deirdre turned her anxious face toward them.

"Stay there!" Sophie snapped at her girl. A pang of remorse twisted within the witch, as the child-woman flinched. However, fear made the silver sorceress fierce and hasty. The sorceress threw her eyes around the room once more, as she approached the fallen men. Again the new magic had closed around her; it smelled bizarre, like a mixture of the foulest of rotting things, and the most pleasant of flowers. As she moved, Sophie's nimbus faded, but her expression remained severe. Whatever had brought the smell was not far from this place and could still be near; the witch expected to be attacked at any moment.

"Are you alright?" The Wallmaker's wife asked as she kneeled by the prone men.

"Don't touch me!" Gasped the wizard in the red uniform.

"I'm here to help you," The silver-haired mother replied soothingly. But the sorceress recoiled in horror from what she saw as the man rolled over on his back.

"I know," the man wheezed as he struggled to breathe, "But the curse is still upon me."

"Tell me what happened?" Sophie asked softly, sympathy plain in her voice. However, she refrained from touching the grayed wizard's guard as she examined the whimpering human. The other solider shrank from the woman's touch, madly clutching his little cap to his head.

"A daemon attacked us. It… _ate_ Gerold." The sorcerer managed to say, horror thickening his voice. His breath coming in short gasps, but the man managed to half sit up.

"Is he alright?" Deirdre asked fretfully, suddenly appearing close to her mother's side. But the wizard scrambled backwards in terror as his eyes fell on the child-woman.

"The daemon!" The man exclaimed, panic robbing from his face all the color of his efforts. The brown-eyed mother followed the man's frenzied gaze and stared at her daughter in alarm.

Had Deirdre done this?

Suddenly soldiers armed with guns pounded into the room through the shambles of the front door. There was a nerve-racking moment as the uniformed men pointed their guns at Drie and Sophie. The silver sorceress straightened slowly putting her hands in the air as she returned her anxious gaze once more to her daughter. The child-woman had gone white as a sheet in fright, favoring her arm, and looking faint with fear at the sight of the rifles. In the blink of an eye the otherwind erupted from beneath the girl as a portal winked into existence under her feet. The girl plunged out of sight and the gate dissolved, just as the soldiers opened fire on the spot where the tall half-human once stood.

"Deirdre!" Sophie screamed, mad with worry for her child, even though she knew her daughter had escaped. The sound was deafening, although the fallen wizard's voice shouted over the din. "Cease fire!" Cried the newly aged man, and the soldiers complied.

But now all the guns in the room were pointed at Sophie.

xXx

"Where are mommy and Drie?" Shan asked for the fifteenth time.

"I don't know!" Markl snapped angrily as he paced the front room wildly.

Moments after a winged Deirdre had torn out of nowhere through the doorway leading to Lettie's office, Sophie had taken off after her daughter wearing a matching set of feathers. But not before making Markl promise to take Shan home immediately. Howl's apprentice hotly resented being forced to look after his brother, especially since Sophie might have gone into danger.

It was still a bit surreal to him, but it had only been three days since the he faced off against several gigantic wrath daemons and survived. The brown-eyed boy had proven a thousand times over that he could handle more than taking care of a six-year-old. But the apprentice quelled his bitterness by reflecting on the uncertain circumstances that had driven the silver-haired witch to act so hastily. Deirdre was unpredictable; there was no telling what had made her go tearing off in the way she did. But then again, his new sister was not exactly normal. The young wizard remembered with a shudder how her eyes had been completely black when she looked at him in the alley. They were just like the eyes of the daemons he had encountered in the shield room.

The girl was not safe.

Markl felt a stab of guilt over such thoughts, but he had experienced too much hardship in his life at the hands of betrayed confidences to ignore the danger the girl posed. As such, the golden-eyed young man stalwartly refused to be completely trusting of the tall woman until time she proved him wrong. It was not that the Markl hated daemons. On the contrary, he was fascinated by them. But like fire could be both enticing and beautiful, it was changeable and dangerous. Night was coming, and it was beginning to get dark outside. The apprehension the Wallmaker's son felt grew heavier with every inch the sun sank. He wished that Howl would come home.

"That girl's trouble," Calcifer muttered irritably from the fireplace.

"Be nice to my sister!" Shan snapped at the fire daemon with a cross face. Cal gave a chittering-pop in surprise at the young child's harsh tone.

"You're not such a blessing either, kid!" The fire daemon frowned nastily, long plumes of black smoke trailing from his mouth.

"Would you like some tea, dearies?" Granny witch asked cheerily from her chair, conveniently speaking up at the exact moment to defuse the tension in the room. But Shan appeared to ignore the living flame's baiting words, still watching Markl pace over the back of the couch. However, his older brother could tell from the calculating look in the boy's eyes that his mind was elsewhere. Howl's youngest son furtively flicked his hand in a manner that looked far too casual. Suddenly the kettle swiveled into the hearth and bashed the fire daemon right in the middle of his forehead.

"Ouch!" Calcifer sputtered up around the copper vessel in bright white anger, "You did that on purpose!"

"No need to be such a hot-head, Cal. Granny wants some tea," Shan replied loftily with his back to the hearth.

"Why you little brat! I ought to…"

Perhaps it was a good thing Markl was looking after his brother. Sophie would be ever so cross with him if Calcifer were to eat Shan. The kettle immediately began whistling madly under the daemon's fierce heat. Granny bustled over humming softly, cutting off the rest of the living flame's angry retort as she snagged the copper vessel from his flames with a poker.

"Oh what a pretty fire," She murmured softly with a loving smile. Her words managed to completely deflate the little spark as she filled a tea pot. Shan had a smug look on his face as Markl orbited closer to his brother.

"Akarshan!" the Wallmaker's eldest apprentice scolded with a stern frown.

"He started it," Shan replied casually as he looked away, smoothing his raven-hair unnecessarily. Howl did the same thing when he was nervous or guilty.

"You should be grateful for all that Calcifer does for us!" Markl continued as he planted his hands on his hips, falling into the same timber of voice he heard Sophie use when she reprimanded her children. But it was lost on his little brother, who rolled his eyes at the impending lecture. The russet-haired apprentice felt a surge of anger over his young brother's dismissive behavior. The little boy could be so like Howl sometimes it made him want to spit. The brown-eyed young man knew it would do no good to lead his brother directly to reason; like his father, Shan did not take well to lectures. But Markl did not have any intentions of letting his brother get away with his rude behavior. A lesson would be learned, even if he had to take the long way to deliver it.

"Do you know why mother doesn't like to use magic unless she absolutely has to?"

The lanky young man ceased to circuit the room and loomed over his brother. Akarshan settled back on the couch with a frown, surprised by Markl's bad mood and the strange question. But his older brother paused as Granny handed them each a cup of tea from the service tray that sat on the edge of the fireplace. She winked at them both as she dropped an extra lump of sugar into their mugs and tottered off to her chair calling to Heen.

"No," Shan replied hesitantly after a moment, realizing Markl was still staring at him with a quickly intensifying frown. Obviously he expected an answer.

"Maybe because she's the only one in his family with any manners?" Cal snapped unpleasantly from the fireplace, rubbing his forehead with a thin tendril of flame. The russet-haired boy flashed the living flame a contrite smile, but quickly returned his attention to the six-year-old.

"Where does magic come from, Akarshan?" Markl asked in a way a teacher drills his student. Howl may be the master of magic in the Jenkins family, but his apprentice did most of his brother's teaching.

"The otherworld," Shan replied automatically, preening over his quick response.

"How does it get into our world?" The Wallmaker's apprentice continued. The little boy went to open his mouth to speak, but with a look of consternation he realized he did not know. However, Shan hunkered down and looked at Markl expectantly, blowing on his tea to cool it, knowing his brother was about to tell him.

"Think of the rocks we saw in the side of the mountain by Star Lake. You remember, the ones with the ferns on them, because water was coming out of the cliff? Deep in the mountain there is a huge underground lake. It trickles through little nooks and cracks until it comes out of the ground. Trickles become streams, streams turn to rivers, which feed lakes and oceans. Think of the otherworld as a vast underground lake of magic that exists just beyond the edges of our world."

"But how does it get here?" Shan piped curiously, cowing as Markl gave him a look that said he intended to tell him if he would stop interrupting.

"Magic comes from life, Shan, and everything lives in one way or another. Everything has a connection to the otherworld. In the same way that the nooks and crannies in the rocks let the water through the mountain, living things allows magic to seep into this realm from beyond the indigo veil. That means everything is magic: me, you, the castle, animals, rocks, and the ocean."

"Rocks aren't alive!" Shan suddenly disputed incredulously.

"And how do you know?" Calcifer crackled irritably from the hearth, still miffed with the little boy. "Have you ever sat down and talked to one? Ever bothered to take a good look at a boulder?"

Shan's brow furrowed as he considered that, but turned his attention back to Markl as his brother began to speak again.

"Think of it this way. Especially old things have a lot of magic in them, like rocks and trees and rivers. After a while they take on a life of their own, like people."

"You're talking about daemons aren't you?" Shan cut in and Markl sighed, giving up on asking the boy to remain silent. The small raven-haired boy was obsessed by daemons as of recent, probably because of his sister. It had only been two days, but the six-year-old had been constantly hounding him with questions about the spirits.

"Yes, that's right. Daemons are some of the oldest living things in our world. They have a foot in both worlds so to speak; what I mean is they're so full of magic that they can move between the mortal realm and the otherworld. It also means that they can make things happen using their power. It is because of the magic that daemons bring to this world that Witches and Wizards can do sorcery. We have our own internal stores of power, but sometimes that's not enough. Sorcerers can also borrow magic from daemons to make things happen. In fact, you may not know it, but daemons are helping us all the time simply by existing. For example, who is flying the castle right now? Who is keeping it in the air?"

"Calcifer," Shan replied in a quiet voice, his pale face flushed with shame.

"Don't you think you owe someone an apology?"

"I'm sorry, Calcifer. Is you're head okay?" Shan spoke in a small voice, turning to peer at the little ember, who flickered a mild yellow color in the hearth.

"S'okay, kid," the flame mumbled sleepily, "I shouldn't be so hard on your sister. She just freaks me out."

"Markl," Shan asked in a distracted voice as he turned to regard his brother with big blue eyes, "If everyone is magic, why isn't everyone a wizard?"

Howl's eldest son looked at the ceiling to mask his perplexed expression, "Have you ever heard the story about how the otherworld came to be?"

"Yes! Papa told me it a lot of times. I made him a crystal charm that shows a picture of the star daemon who talks to me in my dreams."

"You see him too?" Markl stared at his brother, frowning sharply, remembering the strange dream he shared with his sister the previous night. But he brushed by that coincidence to continue his explanation. "Magi are supposed to be the descendents of the star twin who stayed in the mortal realm."

"Oh! Now I get it!" Shan squealed as he stood on the couch and began clapping his hands. Calcifer groaned in the hearth and wedged his head under a frying pan. "That means witches and wizards are part daemon. That's why we can go to the otherworld, and that's why we can use magic."

The russet-haired apprentice blinked rapidly. He had never made that connection before. Suddenly several things clicked into place within his head, and all he could do was stare at the black-haired little boy.

"Hey, that means that Dreidre and I are still twins. She's a daemon and I'm a daemon. I just wish she weren't so much bigger than me. I never win any wrestling matches."

"I'm afraid it's not as simple as that, Shan," Markl replied solemnly, his mind working furiously as he sipped his tea, which had been forgotten in his hand. The tall young man settled next to his brother, deep in thought as the little boy wiggled restlessly.

"Calcifer, Heen's a daemon, right?"

"Yeah, he used to be. Now he's just a fat useless dog," Calcifer crackled from the ashes, sending a sly look at the little creature who was curled up in Granny's lap. Heen cracked an eye to meet the living flame's gaze with a bland expression, and wheezed softly before returning to sleep. The old witch was clicking her needles together furiously, in spite of the fact she was dosing lightly.

"How come I can understand what you say and not what Heen does?" Akarshan half demanded, as he rounded on the living ember.

Calcifer gave a chattering-pop and flickered a ruddy color, which was a good indication the little boy had surprised the fire daemon, "That's a rather personal question, kid."

"Is it because papa ate you?" The raven-haired Howl clone pestered the flame persistently, leaning off of the couch to peer at the daemon.

"Didn't I just say it was a private matter?" Cal snapped nastily, a bit of tooth showing as he regarded the boy through narrowed eyes.

"You're part human now, aren't you Cal? That's why you speak people and not daemon," Sometimes the boy's intuition was a bit too much for his own good; just like a certain silver haired someone.

For just an instant Calcifer turned the brightest bubble-gum pink Markl had ever seen; which told him without a doubt that it was true. Then the living flame flickered into a dark black-purple, looking for a moment like he was about to explode. At that same moment the front door tore open and the otherwind came blowing into the house as Deirdre lunged through the archway. Markl nearly dropped his tea cup because the velvet sky of the otherworld showed through the archway for an instant before the door closed. However, the dial on the wall was still pointed to Kingsbury.

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO DO THAT!" Calcifer snarled up from the hearth, pelting the Wallmaker's sons with soot and embers.

Deirdre retorted what must have been a nasty reply; but he couldn't understand her words, which were in a strange language that sounded like a chorus of chiming metal bells. Calcifer once again went pink with surprise, and shrank small into the ashes. The language in which she spoke made Markl's insides shiver and quake, and Heen issued a squeak as he went flying from Granny's lap.

"Where's Sophie?" The russet-haired youth demanded as he recovered himself.

But Deirdre literally flew through the living room and up the stairs, favoring one of her arms. She did not look at them, and the wind of her passing stirred the pages of the books he had left open on the table.

"What happened, sister?" Shan called anxiously trying to chase after her, but Markl held him back. An uncomfortable squirrelly feeling was twisting in his chest. Something was about to happen. The door under the stairs, which was also the portal to Market Chipping, suddenly burst open. Sophie literally erupted into the room wearing a crackling nimbus of mercurial fire.

"Dierdre!" Sophie shouted at the ceiling. Markl didn't think he had ever seen his mother this angry, and he flinched as the small woman turned her blazing brown eyes to regard her sons.

"Rooms! Now!" She commanded. As her sons dropped their tea cups and fled for their lives Calcifer went straight up the flue.

"Oh, what a lively evening," Granny mumbled to herself, and continued to knit without a missing a stitch.

"DEIRDRE!" Sophie shouted louder this time, and her voice split the silence in the castle like a thunder clap.

The sun fled the room as the walls and floor of the castle groaned and creaked, warping around the woman's fury. A door overhead opened, and soft steps echoed down the hallway. Drie came to a seat halfway down the stairs, her deathly pale face peering at her mother through the banister. The silver sorceress stabbed a finger at the ground, indicating she expected her girl to stand before her. But Sophie had to look up at the child-woman, who was almost as tall as her husband. It was difficult to remember that the woman before her was just a little girl. In spite of the fact that her daughter appeared exactly the silver sorceress' age, Drie was barely more than six-years-old. She already acted much older than her twin because of all she had seen and suffered. But the former hatter was beyond anger at that moment, and forgot herself in her irrationality

"A man is dead," The Wallmaker's wife spoke each word slowly.

"And so is a daemon!" Deirdre snapped angrily, fire flickering in her blue eyes for a moment. But that was not the best reply she could have given, and Sophie stared at her daughter in horror. The child-woman looked away, her face hot and red with shame; she couldn't bear the expression on her mother's face.

"What happened?" She heard the woman whisper, but she didn't say a word. She couldn't tell her mother about Door. It was horrible, but Drie didn't trust humans anymore. She was afraid. She knew if she did tell her mother about the other, the red ones would hunt her down and kill her just like they did the soot daemon. Door protected her. They hadn't done anything wrong.

"What did you do?" Sophie screamed.


	5. Chapter 5: Night

**The Daemon Wars: Part IV of the Wallmaker Saga**

**Chapter 5: Night**

"What did you do?" Sophie screamed, rousing the half-daemon from her confusion.

"Don't yell at Drie, mommy!" Shan yelled, suddenly coming tearing down the stairs to stand on the landing. There were tears on his face.

"Akarshan!" Markl called as he rushed down after his brother and scooped the struggling boy into his arms.

"Get back upstairs this instant!" The silver sorceress shouted at her sons. But they remained rooted in place as Drie finally spoke.

"They killed the little soot spirit, mother! They sent him to the burned place beyond the Wall." The girl-woman was shaking as she spoke in a voice full of horror.

"What about the Dull Wall?" Sophie's face showed her terror of the barrier plainly. But the hatter's daughter continued.

Suddenly, the words spilled from the half-daemon. The girl held forward her arm, and drew back the sleeve showing the strange puncture wound stunning the silver sorceress into silence.

"The red one, the human wizard, the one with the mirror and the bell; it rang for me. The soldier shot me mother! They tried to kill me, to send me to the burned place! They're sending all of my kind to that place!"

"Deirdre," The brown-eyed woman spoke through her fingers, gazing in consternation at the mark on her arm. The bullet gleamed in the light. "You're not a monster. You're just…"

The silver witch trailed off as she realized what she was going to say. But her strange daughter knew exactly what had remained unspoken. The words burned as though her mother had slapped her. It was like the ground opened up beneath her, and she plunged into dark despair. They did think she was a monster, her mother and her brothers. They hung back from her as though they thought she was going to eat them, just like Door ate the man. She heard herself speaking, but it was like she was watching from outside of herself.

"Cursed?" She demanded in the human language, although her words garbled and stretched as she felt her shape change. But Drie had no control over herself; the body in which she was trapped was a stranger's. Her sight changed, as the blue of her eyes went black and fathomless. Her mortal senses melted away as the daemon within her took hold. She felt the horror on their faces more than she saw it, as she loomed upwards. It was plain in their eyes, just as she could smell the pungent metallic blood smell of their fear. When she spoke again it was in the language of daemons, which was thick with despair.

_I'm not cursed, mother. THIS IS WHO I AM!_

Sophie stumbled back from the great boiling column of indigo that reared up before her, a scream issuing unbidden from her lips. It was the same creature that had caught her in the darkness of the Council Chamber. The memories in her mind loomed as large as her daemon daughter's words echoed painfully in her head. But Markl pushed in front of his mother and brother as Calcifer darted to hover above the apprentice's head. Together they flashed with violet light, as a great circle of purple erupting from beneath them. The banishing magic burned Drie since she was too close, but it shocked the girl out of her turmoil. Drie fell backwards and when she hit the floor she was human again. Stumbling to her feet, the Wallmaker's daughter turned wordlessly from her family and fled.

She rushed to the front door and randomly turned the knob to pink, and disappeared out into the sunset.

xXx

Door emerged from a random doorway in the line of townhouses that propagated in the streets of Market Chipping just in time to see the robin-colored soldiers go storming into the green mother's old house.

There was an earth shattering moment when shots rang out from within the building. The daemon experienced a fit of rage simultaneously as a cold sensation she identified as fear caused a strange weakness in her knees. She was forced her to sit mad with worry. Was the other safe! Door wildly vacillated the opposite direction as she was seized mad frustration. Why did she care? Why was she still here? Why had she even bothered to come? But it took every ounce of control the daemon could muster to not go charging back into the building. She knew the silver sister was safe; she tasted the otherwind on her tongue a moment before the guns had exploded. However, it was not because of the other that she lingered.

Silver mother was alive.

Seeing the little brown-eyed human come charging in through the front door had shocked Door so completely that she had fled through a portal on mere instinct. Again the feeling of intense pressure twisted within her chest; it was tight and hot and left the half-daemon feeling giddy. But it was not entirely painful. It was because of this emotion that she had come to the aid of the other. Door felt it wash through her as she held the silver sister in her arms. It was because of this same feeling that she stayed. With it came a sense of longing so compelling she had to flee down the street a ways to prevent herself from entering the house just to see the silver mother again.

Green mother would be very angry with her if she knew where she was.

But Door didn't care. It was strange, when she was just a daemon, it hadn't mattered to her in the slightest what Danna did. However, now that she was half-human it had not taken her long to realize just how insane Green mother was. Just as mad if not more so than the twisted kin that lived in the burned place beyond the hungry Wall. The fact filled her with such a strong aversion she experienced an odd sensation that made her feel sick. The half-daemon knew that she should bring the woman beyond the Wall and leave her, but that would mean death for the mortal. Ever ounce of her daemon instincts told her she should kill the weak faded human, but she couldn't. ? Green mother had power over her through the broken place inside her. The cold woman exercised an awful control over the chimera that even she could not disregard.

Door had been forced to ride a mortal's body in order to escape the burned place. She had resided in the other for a long time as well and never once had she felt an aversion to the idea of a shared existence. But now, trapped in this human flesh, the creature was desperate to keep the new found liberty of freewill. It was because of this new self-love that she feared the one who had helped her escape from beyond the Dull Wall. Door was more terrified of Danna than of the scorched plains. She did not understand any of what the human said to her. What did she care of prophecies and mortal vengeance? But the mortal woman forced her feel and see things that made her become someone else. They twisted her mind with pain and loss and then sent her to a place of black oblivion far wore than the burned place.

She hid from green mother because the daemon feared that one day she would not come back from the nothingness.

Door was dragged back to her senses as she watched the silver sorceress emerge from the house and rocket into the sky on shining feathered wings. This gave her a start. Was the silver mother daemon kin? The tall chimera blinked and looked after the woman with her othersense, tasting the smell of her magic in the manner an animal scents another's mark. It was a strange mixture of the bright tangy aroma that colored the newborn lights that marked the existence of mortals, but intertwined with it was the dusky resonating hues of the ancients. It was that same smell that brought her attention back to the streets around her. True daemons approached.

So the little soot brother was not the only of her kin to dwell in this place of mortals.

Door swiftly gained her feet and strode down the side walk ignoring the scandalized looks primly dressed woman shot at her thin shift and bare legs. As soon as she caught sight of an entrance to an alley, the half-daemon careened down the passage into the narrow dark world between the human's dwellings. She frightened a scruffy looking cat, who hissed at her viciously and fled as Door entertained thoughts of another meal. But the daemon was very full at that moment and the lusty bite of her hunger remained silent in her belly. She cast her eyes about; there were no windows here, and from the dusty empty smell that permeated the passage nor did it appear that mortals frequented this place. It was here that the other daemons approached her.

Brown water suddenly seeped out of a gutter and ran up one of the alley walls defying all commonsense. Something akin to a face emerged from the churning bubbles that split to blink fathomless eyes on her direction. One of the trash heaps shuddered and gathered itself up into a huge limbed golem of stinking refuse; in its shadow a tiny fleet of soot daemons surged and chattered softly. Out of the rafters that sloped low overhead a bit of yellow fire gathered like a pinwheel of color that resolved into a floating will-o-the-wisp.

_Be you kindred, outsider? _The trash golem's thoughts rumbled like churning granite boulders in her mind.

_Smells like kindred, but looks like mortal! _Whispered the light in a feminine voice that breezed around her like the warm western wind. The tone was playful, although the words insulting. Door blinked her eyes, which turned to night and she thrummed menacingly. Her hands resolved into obsidian claws as she stared at the lamp light, which darted behind the trash golem.

_I see daemon claws beneath this mortal's flesh. She is kindred._ Bubbled the water on the wall in a cheery voice.

_I am the Door. What do you want? _The other replied with barbed thoughts.

_We flee to the wastes so the red ones do not catch us,_ Chimed a chorus of voices from the colony of soot daemons that twisted around the trash heaps ankles.

_The red ones hunt us all, not just the mad cousins. _Gurgled the water spirit._ We seek the Ancients._

_What makes you think the old ones care for us? _Door replied nastily.

_Some do. Some will fight. _The light sang as she whirled like a kaleidoscope of balmy yellow hues.

_The mortals unbalance this world and the next._ Grumbled the golem._ The truce is broken and the ancients must choose lest we all go to the burned place._

_Come with us, sister_. The water on the wall sang hopefully. _Staying means only death_.

Door was about to answer when an excruciating pain blossomed within her chest as though she had been stabbed. The chimera staggered, clutching at herself as a mournful moan issued from her. The green mother called and there was nothing in her power she could do to refuse. Even though she was no longer tied to the broken body of the mortal whose blood Danna used to release her from beyond the Wall, Door was bound by the terms of their bargain.

_Flee, kindred. _The silver-haired woman sent with a ragged sob that bleed through her thoughts like a dark ink blot._ You are right. The mortals have gone mad and they will kill us all!_

With that, Door was involuntarily swallowed by a portal that opened beneath her feet.

xXx

The high moors were silent and serene until the door to the tiny house flew open.

As the portal slammed shut it flushed several birds roosting in the shingles up into the mellow sherbet sunset that colored the sky in rosy hues. Deirdre stumbled on the narrow path through the rolling fields of sweet smelling flowers. Blinded by tears, she fell several times, but for some reason she knew exactly where she was going. As she rounded a hill, a scattering of high alpine lakes reflected the darkening sky. Nestled on the shores of one of the larger ponds was a small cottage with a merrily turning water wheel. Again she fell on the steep side of the hummock, twisting her ankle painfully and jarring her injured am as she sprawled into a patched of honey scented lupine.

"Door!" She cried mournfully to the sky as he held her arm. But no on answered.

_DOOR! _She cried again with her othervoice, but still there was silence. The daemon was far from her sister and could not hear her. She was alone, completely and utterly alone. A chill wind blew across the high moors of the wastes as the sky faded slowly into night. However, the girl did not feel the cold. She could have walked barefoot through miles of snow and not felt a thing. Wearily, Deirdre gained her feet and trudged the rest of the way down the path to the cottage, trailing her sorrow like a veil of shadows behind her. Several flower daemons and a lake spirit watched her curiously from a distance, but the silver-haired girl ignored them. As she plopped down on the bench in front of the little house, she began to wail hopelessly.

She wasn't sure how long she cried, but it was a long time because when the numbness replaced her tears it was completely dark. Here the sky was much bluer than in the otherworld, where the indigo firmament had more of a violet color. Stars winked in the crystal clear heaven above and a full moon began to peak over the eastern horizon. Drie could not remember the last time she looked at the stars, and the numbness faded into a sense of peace. It was quiet here, and she listened to the gentle gurgle of the pond as it turned the water wheel, the wooden gates opening and closing with a flopping click. This place was far away from humans and their problems. Rather, how complicated her world had become.

She pushed away all thoughts and turned her sapphire eyes back to stare at the jeweled sky.

One of the stars pulsed brightly, its light spinning like a top amongst its lazy cousins. Drie peered at it curiously and then stood as it seemed to sparkle larger in the sky. Coming forward off of the stone patio that lined the front of the cottage, the child-woman ran out along the shore of the pond and realized the light was indeed growing larger. All of a sudden it shuddered and broke free of its place, arcing lower as it fell from the eastern sky right above the moon. The awe the Wallmaker's daughter experienced suddenly turned to terror as she realized the light was heading straight for her at a swift speed. But there was no time to move. The star plunged towards the wastes trailing behind it like a tail of shimmering pastel light. The shooting star crashed into the surface of the pond, sending up a huge plume of white magnesium fire that showered the shore with sparkling embers. Shielding her eyes against the light and the wind that coursed across the hills, Deirdre watched as out of the fire came a twisting ball of light that skipped across the surface of the lake. The star daemon lost its momentum just as it tumbled to a halt on the green grass right in front of the blue-eyed woman.

The tiny being of light and fire uncurled its trembling limbs and struggled to stand, flickering weakly. Without a second thought, the silver sorceress' daughter reached towards it, offering help in a way no human could. But as she approached the creature stood and let out a mellifluous cry that echoed with endless magic; in that moment a wondrous thing happened. The creature stretched upwards, the sparkling edges of its filmy form expanding to take on a human shape. It struggled for a moment, as though it did not know quite what to become.

It shuddered and solidified. Suddenly a man stood before Deirdre, wrapped in a cloak that look like it was cut from the cloth of the velvet sky beyond the indigo veil. The stranger was taller than her father, if that was possible, although just as thin. The star daemon's face was beautiful, almost like a woman's if not for the hard angles of his jaw. His skin was as tanned as his hair was light; although it was not a flat grey of Drie's. It was stark white tinted with mellow hues like the star fire that had exploded over the lake. As he looked at her his gaze was fathomless, just as Door's had been. But then the man-daemon blinked and his eyes became the most intense shade of violet.

"Who are you?" Deirdre whispered as she stared at him.

The man frowned at her words, looking confused as if he didn't understand her. Every emotion he felt showed plainly on his face as though he were not familiar with any of them. He blinked rapidly and it appeared her words finally made sense to him. The stranger smiled brightly, a look that would have melted a mortal woman's heart. Then he spoke with the slowness of a person unaccustomed to language. In spite of the fact that he stumbled over his words, the man did speak them; instead he sang them. The mellow timber of his voice rang sonorously in Deirdre's ears, resonating like a great golden bell.

"Nox," he replied serenely, placing a hand on his chest while inclining his head. The man-daemon gestured with fluid grace towards the sky, his words flowing haltingly like a punctuated rhythm of a song, "I fell… to help."

All of a sudden the Wallmaker's daughter realized she knew this spirit. He was the elder star that helped her mother beyond the indigo veil. She stared at Nox with her other sense and realized he was half human.

Just like her.

xXx

The sun had set by the time Howl reached the Kingsbury portal that lead back to his castle.

The Wallmaker practically tore the door from the hinges as he came thundering into the house. The first thing he head was Sophie's crying and his knees almost would not carry him up the front stairs. Granny witch was seated on the couch comforting his silver haired wife, who was curled up like a child at the faded old woman's feet. The mother of the castle was hiding her face in the former witch of the waste's lap, sobbing so bitterly she was trembling. Heen had cuddled up against the little woman's legs and the fat dog thumped his tail, turning large eyes to regard the lanky raven-haired man. Calcifer was green with worry, perched on the very edge of the hearth. The living flame gave a chittering-pop as he caught sight of Howl, flushing a ruddy orange as he started up into the air.

"The children?" The keeper of the balance demanded hoarsely.

"We're fine," Markl's disembodied voice spoke suddenly from halfway down the stairwell. Both he and Akarshan faded into view as they emerged from under the apprentice's cloak of many patches. Howl sagged in relief and almost sat right there on the stairs.

"Get back in your rooms!" Sophie all but shrieked around Granny Witch's skirts.

The entire living room darkened and trembled, rattling a couple of pans from the shelves. The boys fled their mother's earthquake with wide-eyed terror. Calcifer made a cross-eyed grimace and shrank back into the hearth regarding the woman warily. Howl had heard his wife raise her voice to their sons in that manner only a few times in their life together. Sophie was not a delicate woman, nor was she prone to emotional distress. Indeed, she was one of the strongest and most level-headed people he had ever met. Something horrible must have happened that to make her fall apart to such an extent. Howl couldn't bear hearing her cry with such hopeless abandon. Just the sound of it made him want to break something.

"You should take her, dearie. You might have more luck than I," Granny Witch smiled at him sadly.

The Wallmaker started forward. He kneeled next to Heen, taking a moment to pat the dog before gently attempting to extricate the silver sorceress from the old woman's skirts. She fought his hands blindly, still shaking like a lone leaf in winter.

"Where's Deirdre?" He asked Granny, who frowned at him with uncharacteristic seriousness and made a shushing noise. But it was too late. Sophie took in a ragged breath and began weeping with renewed vigor.

"I'm a horrible mother!" She wailed at the ceiling as she surfaced from Granny's lap. Howl couldn't help but laugh out loud, it was possibly the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard his wife say. As husband and wife, Sophie was often the loadstone of their lives, her consistency brought the swinging pendulum of his moods into balance. His heart swelled with infinite love for the little brown-eyed woman and he was glad to know that he could do the same for her.

"Forgive me for being contrary, Mrs. Witch, but you are possibly the best mother in the entire world," The raven-haired replied with shining eyes. The silver haired woman mastered herself enough to realize her husband was sitting on the floor next to her, leaning jauntily against the edge of the hearth.

"Howl?" She mumbled between sniffs, peering at him with eyes red and swollen from crying. Sophie's hair was a mess, her nose was running, and she had the appearance of a squashed tomato, but to him she had never looked lovelier. The handsome wizard smiled dazzlingly and fished a lacy monogrammed handkerchief from one of his sleeves. Making a great show of it, he delivered it to the mother of his children with a graceful flick of his wrist. Sophie took it and unceremoniously honked her nose into it rather loudly. She smiled weakly as Heen scuttled to his feet and licked at her face.

"Better?" He asked brightly, turning his head to the side to peer at the silver haired woman. But she seemed to shrink inward under his eyes.

"No. Deirdre…" She whispered but her voice failed as a flood of tears once again threatening to fall.

In a single movement Howl cast off his great checkered coat and scooped her up into his arms. The Wallmaker carried the Sorceress of the Silver Flame up the stairs with swift steps to their bedroom. In transit he noticed the door to Sophie's old chamber was wide open. It was Deirdre's room now. The first day home the wizard brought up an entire bucket of multi-colored chalk making a great deal of telling his daughter he would expand it and make it look exactly as she wanted it. But the tall child-woman had giggled and shyly declined her father's offer. Then Drie hugged him so hard he felt his sternum pop. She said it was perfect the way it was. Howl noticed the chamber was dark and empty. As they passed it Sophie began to cry again, her tears hot and wet on his neck. A cold knot of fear twisted beneath his heart.

Pushing open the door to their room, the faint smell of roses, hyacinth and a pinging chorus of chimes greeted them. The Wallmaker had to stoop to deposit his wife onto their perfectly made albeit tilted bed. It slanted a bit more under Sophie's weight. One of the feet broke that morning and the silver-haired woman had propped it up on a pile of bricks. Silly witch, Howl thought while kicking off his shoes, she could have just ensorcelled it back to normal. But Sophie hardly ever used her magic unless she had to. He untied his wife's boots as she hid her face in their pillows and pulled off the thick grey socks granny witch knitted for her. The old witch had tried to making her blue ones once, but they all mysteriously turned a humble hue once on his wife's legs. The silver haired woman didn't even twitch as he mischievously tickled one of her small bare feet. Settling next to her, the lanky man wrapped his arms around her and tucked her head under his chin.

It didn't take long before the words came spilling out of his wife.

Howl had learned many things about the brown-eyed woman over the years of their marriage. Sophie never burdened others with her troubles until her silence became unbearable. She always told all eventually. And as she did the Wallmaker recalled the appointment he scheduled for his foot with the King Ferdinand. Or perhaps the window? Howl couldn't decide. However, the bells and mobiles over them began pinging and twirling wildly, reacting to the silent fury that welled up within the cerulean eyed sorcerer. They pointed guns at Sophie. They tried to banish Deirdre beyond the Dull Wall. Today had not been a good day for any of them.

Perhaps they all should have stayed in bed.

"A soldier is dead. The wizard said that a daemon _ate _him," Sophie whispered into his shirt, pressing her face against him so fiercely that the buttons left an imprint in her cheek as she lifted her head to regard her husband, eyes wide with horror. "Deirdre would'nt... She couldn't!"

And if she had Howl would not have blamed her. It was an evil thought but one a father could not help but feel. The soldiers were following orders, just like the wizard guard. But that was no excuse for not thinking. Was a soot daemon really a threat? Or had the young sorcerer been unable to sort the lingering threads of Mrs. Danna's magic from the little spirit. However, he should not judge to hastily. If he had been there, the Wallmaker was not sure he could have restrained himself either. Howl decided that was not the most appropriate answer at this point in time.

"There might have been many daemons in that house," He replied smoothly, gently brushing his wife's wild hair from her face, "There's no telling what Danna kept locked up in her cellar."

That seemed to give his wife some peace, albeit fleeting. Her face twisted with sorrow before she hid under his chin, clinging to him weakly as the words came once more. Howl managed to remain relaxed, giving the impression of calm composure as she told him what happened in the kitchen downstairs, describing in detail what their daughter became. The Wallmaker had been half-daemon for a long time himself because of the self-inflicted sorrow curse in which he had been trapped. And then he remembered the bells. He and Calcifer were still very close and he reflected on how easily they had merged to destroy the wrath daemons in the shield room. Perhaps the connection lingered; not that it mattered. The fire daemon was the wizard's best friend in spite of all the nasty words they shared. Their family already included one daemon; it would not be hard to make room for another.

"Why can't I do anything right? First, I cracked the spire and now my daughter has run away because of me," Sophie mumbled morosely and then let out a ragged sigh.

"Sophie, he spire was not your fault. This is a difficult time for all of us, dear heart, us just as much as Drie. We're doing the best we can," He replied soothingly.

"When she changed, she looked just like the thing from the Council Chamber that brought me to the Wall. She's so strange and it's awful of me, but she frightens me, Howl."

"I'm sure she's just as confused and frightened by herself, dear heart. Besides, Deirdre knows you love her; mothers are supposed to yell at their children sometimes. At least you don't throw furniture," Howl replied with gentle humor and he felt the little woman relax in his arms. As if sensing the question her husband held back, the silver sorceress spoke as she rolled over onto her back, undoing the travesty her braid had become.

"She went into the wastes via the pink mark."

"Ah… the cottage."

"What if it snows? We can't leave her out there alone; she's just a little girl!" Howl could not help but smile at the idea of snow in June.

"No, she's not a little girl anymore. I know it's hard and perhaps a little cruel, but I'm afraid we can't treat her as such. This world will not see her as a child, and it would be a grave disservice to give her such mixed messages."

Howl could tell that his wife did not agree with him by the way she set her jaw and stared at the night sky outside the window overhead. However, she must not have felt like arguing because kept her peace.

"Right now I think Deirdre needs space. I'll check on her in the morning," the Wallmaker continued softly.

The handsome man propped himself up on one hand so he could smooth the other over Sophie's long silver hair. It was so good to be with her again, surrounded by her clean linen scent, feeling the warmth of her body tucked against his own. It was easy to forget that she had ever been gone. Sometimes it rattled him how easily he had given up. Besides the might of love, his wife had taught him another truth: the power of hope. Leaning down, he tenderly kissed the crown of her head vowing never to forget the lessons of his heart. Suddenly, she turned toward him; regarding him with brown-eyes so full of love they were fierce.

Howl worried about the bed's broken leg, but only for a moment.

Between worlds the vast gloom was calm and spiral around her lazily. Not at all like the horrible nothingness that consumed her when the green mother pushed her out of her body. But she was not allowed to linger here; the half-human plunged through another gate and dropped back into the mortal realm. It was a dark of a different kind here, stuffy and close making the chimera feel trapped. Through the dirty windows of the house she could see that twilight was beginning to color the sky over the ocean in rosy hues. How pretty, she thought and then entertained a puzzled moment trying to understand the concept of pretty. But her enjoyment was fleeting as a figure stirred in a chair across the room. Mrs. Danna sat forward into the light and clutched at something unseen in her fist. Door let out a strangled gasp and stumbled forward, sinking meekly to her knees in front of the cold woman.

"Where have you been?" A voice that burned like ice asked evenly.

"I was hungry," the half daemon whispered, avoiding the human's cold grey eyes.

It was peculiar; Door had never before feared this woman until now. It was ridiculous because the mortal had no magic nor did she wield the strength of the mad kindred beyond the Wall. But just the sound of her voice struck terror into the daemon's heart and made her knees weak. Danna's sharp presence invaded her mind and the half-human scrambled madly to hide everything that had happen save eating the blue-garbed mortal man. Apparently she was successful because the former daemon queen chuckled darkly, a humorless sound that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

"You ate another human, Door? A solider from the Royal Ingarian Army… How fortuitous."

Green mother had forced her to eat the elderly couple that lived in this house high above the village of Porthaven. She had not even hesitated, although moments after the daemon felt a new emotion she had never before encountered: guilt.

Humans were so bizarre. Daemons killed to eat and to protect themselves. Silver sister said killing was wrong, and yet mortals murdered each other every day. And Door did not feel the slightest regret over having eaten the soldier who shot the other. However, the chimera began to understand mortals were driven by motives other than hunger and survival. In retrospect, she realized the old ones had not provoked her in any way and there was no reason to kill them. The complications plagued her, she had never had to think about things like this when she was a daemon. Door quickly learned the difference between the mortals and the ancients: spirits were creatures of pure action, whereas humans dwindled over thoughts and feelings. But she was torn from her philosophical turmoil as the grey-eyed woman voice that echoed through the room.

"_Change_!" She commanded and again her hand twisted.

Door let out a yelp and then her skin faded into the twisting dark matter that substantiated her daemon form. But even that melted away as she solidified into a tall lantern-jawed you man wearing a sharply tailored red and blue uniform. Mrs. Danna surveyed her with cold eyes bright with glee and she chuckled again.

"Excellent! Since you seem to have taken a liking to mortal flesh I have someone else for you to eat. Wear that form to Kingsbury, no one will be able to tell you apart from the other soldiers. Make sure you steer clear of the Wizards Guards, they'll be dressed in red."

"Who?" Door asked curiously in the male's deep baritone, shuddering involuntarily. She did not like the feel of the mortal man's skin. She found the hairy human men ugly and repulsive. Plus, their smell was foul. She much preferred her long white limbs and thin curves; plus her hair was shiny.

"The Wallmaker's brother has a wife with long black hair and green eyes. Her name is Martha. Kill her."

Danna spit out the woman's name as though it were a poisonous thing, Door could see the hate plain in the cold woman's eyes; and perhaps a touch of fear? The daemon did not understand why green mother despised the herbalist, but she felt that same unwarranted loathing for the tall one, the Wallmaker. Was it because he looked like the other tall one who had killed green mother's husband and son? She mentally shook herself; it was becoming vexing how often her thoughts were clouded by the mortal obsession of understanding.

It didn't really matter why. For some reason the former daemon queen had a powerful need to extinguish this mortal. Perhaps she threatened her in some way. That must be it because the green mother had attempted to murder the Royal Wizard's wife twice before. There had been the mirror; Door herself had written the cursed mark in addition to coercing a dimwitted magician into taking the blame. Then there were the puppet daemons, she and the other had been forced to let through the Wall and send to the herbalist's shop. She remembered how her stomach had turned at the thick smell of agrimony in the shop. But who knew why the green mother did anything. She was crazy, always mumbling about prophecies and revenge. Perhaps there was no reason in anything she did.

But wait! Wasn't the herbalist silver mother's sister? Indeed, she dredged through the jumbled collection of fragmented memories that were not her own and found the dark haired woman. Silver mother loved her sister very much; just like she loved the other. Turmoil erupted in the daemon once more. It was definitely wrong to eat this one, she was sure of it.

"Why?" Door asked, half stalling for more time to think.

"Since when do daemons ask why?" Danna's voice was quietly dangerous. Even though the half-human knew the cold woman was too weak to even stand, she shrank back from the chair as the male husk faded from her.

"What if I say no," The chimera replied in a voice that trembled in spite of the fact that the ancient within her railed in disgust at her frailty.

"You are mine, Door. I brought you into this world and I can easily send you back to the burned place," The force behind threat was enough to send the chimera's mind blank with white panic. The daemon was still, and Danna mistakenly took her silence to indicate assent.

"There's something else. You must find the silver knife; you know which one I'm talking about. Bring it to me. _Now leave!_"

The command twisted in Door's mind like the violent despair that seized the silver-haired woman. What should she do? What could she do? But the half-human's thoughts fled her as she faded into nothing through a portal that erupted unbidden beneath her feet.

xXx

Well into the dim hours of the morning, Markl crept out of his room.

The russet haired boy had long since ceased being self-conscious about prying into matters that did not concern him. Well… at least when he didn't get caught he wasn't embarrassed. But how else was he supposed to figure out what was going on? Nobody ever told him about anything! And so, just as his Master kept the balance in the otherworld; the russet-haired boy tried to maintain the equilibrium in the mortal world by unceremoniously spying on his parents.

The young wizard crept down the stairs, listening intently to the silence in his parent's room. He noted sadly that Deirdre's door was open and her room empty; the brown-eyed young man felt sorry for his older sister. Drat! Younger sister; she was younger than he and it was very difficult to remember. Drie did not act at all like Shan, who was flighty and often very selfish in his thinking. But he had lived with Howl as a daemon, and the Wallmaker's apprentice made up his mind to try and be friendlier to the girl when she returned. He knew all to well what it was like to be cast off by the world.

He expected Calcifer to be glowing small and yellow in the grate. But instead the living flame was an anxious teal, perched on the edge of the hearth. Cal was staring in trepidation at Howl's coat, which was cast haphazardly onto the ground next to the couch. The fire daemon gave a chittering pop as he caught sight of Markl, half starting up into the air with surprise. But the young man quickly sensed what had been upsetting the glowing ember. There was something in Howl's coat and it smelled very odd.

"What are you doing up?" Cal asked nonchalantly.

"I could say the same to you," Markl replied evenly.

Suddenly, Heen came shuffling out of Granny's room, eyeing both the young wizard and the fire daemon before scrabbling over to the couch. The fat little dog snuffled the checkered coat warily and then gave it a wheezing bark.

"He says its dangerous and we shouldn't bother it," this was the first time Calcifer had ever translated for the dog and the fact that the two could communicate gave Markl as shock.

"Heen really is a daemon isn't he?" The young wizard gaped in awe as the little creature wagged his tail and gave another wheeze that sounded conspicuously like a chuckle.

"Of course he is! Do you think anyone in this family is normal? Hey? Hey! What do you think you're doing?" Calcifer crackled apprehensively as Markl pick up his master's coat and began riffling through the pockets. Heen gave a tiny yelp and went scrambling through the living through, disappearing under Granny Witch's curtains. The russet-haired boy sorted through pockets filled with frilly handkerchiefs and bits of colored glass until he discovered a tiny white envelope that smelled like leaves and dirt. The brown-eyed boy turned absolutely red as he recognized the writing. Calcifer managed to catch a glimpse of the note before the young boy shoved it into one of the pocket on his vest.

"So she's sending you love letters now, eh?" The fire daemon grinned toothily, enjoying watching the young man roast under his own embarrassment.

"Shut up, Cal. I haven't seen Theresa since the shield failed and I miss her," Markl mumbled despondently as he counted three more handkerchiefs. Gods, how many did Howl have! Suddenly he found the thing, rolled up and half crumpled in one of the jacket's great sleeves. Carefully, as though he were afraid it was going to bite him, the young wizard pulled out Councilor Raia's prophecy.

"Gah, that thing smells hideous!" Calcifer grimaced, tingeing a sour apple hue as he waved a thin tendril of flame in front of his face in all too human a motion. But Markl wasn't affected and began leafing through the few pages. The script was unknown to him, albeit oddly familiar. But the writing was a mess; it looked like someone had literally scrawled on the pages.

"I can't read it," The Wallmaker's apprentice huffed crankily. His magical limitations were irksome at times. Calcifer flitted above his head, regarding the pages with frank interest. Suddenly he spun in the air and looked at the page upside down.

"That's because it's upside down and literally written backwards," Cal replied mildly, "We need a mirror."

Together the fire daemon and the young wizard carefully crept upstairs into Howl's workshop, where the only other looking glass in the house was located. Sophie had a strong aversion to mirrors and had since stripped the entire house of any glass that was not bolted to the wall. She had permitted the one in the family bathroom to remain, although it was often covered. But for Calcifer's sake, for the little flame abhorred any kind of humidity, it was not to the bath that the turned.

Howl's workshop was dark and the long shadows cast by the fire daemon's warm red light looked foreboding. Silent clouds whisked past them outside the large windows that lined the two side of the triangular shaped room. A large full moon showed to his left in the indigo blue firmament, which mean they must be heading south at the moment. The flying castle made a habitual lazy circuit from the skies above the wastes to Market Chipping, over Porthaven, to just west of Kingsbury and back north to the wastes again.

The workshop was very much the Wallmaker's domain, which was evident by the chaotic mess that spread throughout the chamber. Sophie never came in here. Markl remember the day not long after she had come to the castle that she tried to clean the room on one of her rampages. Every time she passed through the doorway she found herself once again in the hallway outside. After a while she gave up trying, finally deciding it Howl had a right to keep his own space in whatever condition the sorcerer liked. But the russet-haired boy was sure his mother would toss a fit if she saw the mess in the room. Large scraps of metal were lying about on any spare table, great boxes and chest of strange looking tools jutted from under every surface. Quills, wands, and bits of pencil poked from several tea cups his master had no doubt pilfered from the kitchen down stairs. Books were crammed on every shelf of the only wall without windows. Scattered about the room amongst scraps of paper and gigantic drawing of circle vectors were all manner of crystal, gems, and magical components: like feathers, colored string, and buckets upon buckets of chalk.

Suddenly Markl felt very much at home.

Against one of the corners, swathed in a sheet, was a large glass his master used for magical purposes and it was to this the Wallmaker's apprentice and the fire daemon turned their attention. Pulling back the cloth, Markl held the page up in front of the glass, turning it this way and that until the squiggling letters suddenly made sense to his eyes. Brightness filled the room as Calcifer flitted about lighting various candles that hung on chandeliers overhead. However, the world seemed to go very dark, pressing close to the young wizard as he read furiously. Blinding reaching for a scrap of paper and pen, the russet haired boy began feverishly translating the garbled mess in his neat hand. When he had finished reading, his face was white as a sheet.

Slowly, like cold water dripping in a freezing line down his spine, Markl realized that there was someone else looking at him out of the mirror over the reflection of the page.

He did not see who, for his mind went white and blank in abject terror. The young wizard flew backward to his feet, the prophecy scattering about him as he nearly knocked over a table in his haste to retreat from the mirror. But he remembered the figure's eyes: they were black and fathomless like pools of tar and yet cold and frozen like ice.

"What is it Markl?" Calcifer crackled anxiously as he shot back to the young man's side. But the brown-eyed boy stared open-mouthed at the mundane reflection in the mirror, barely able to will his pounding heart to slow. Whatever had been there a moment ago was gone; but that didn't make him feel any better. Suddenly he seized the sheet from the floor and threw it over the glass, leaving his madly strewn papers where they lay as he fled the room.


	6. Chapter 6: Ancient Words

**The Daemon Wars: Part IV of the Wallmaker Saga**

**Chapter 6: Ancient Words**

Barimus woke to discover he had a hangover: a tell-tale sign he had been drugged.

Again.

The red wizard blinked groggily in the darkness that filled his room. He had no idea how long he had slept, although it had probably been for quite some time. Howl was gone, but that wasn't a surprise. It had been good to see his brother, in spite of the harsh words they had shared. The Royal Wizard lay back with a grimace, as he remembered what the Wallmaker had reluctantly shared with him: the daemon queen was still alive. Just the thought made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and every deep shadow in the room felt menacing. But the room was thick with the smell of agrimony, thanks to the green candle marked in blue, which stood on the table next to Theresa's things.

Besides a powerful need to eat, and the wicked plans of retribution he was formulating for his wife and her apprentice, the blond man felt fine. Better than fine, he felt the best he had in a long time. Suddenly he became aware of the strange lightness that had replaced the dull constant throbbing in his lower legs. With a stab of irrational panic, the golden-eyed man thought they might have amputated his legs while he slept. Throwing back the bedclothes, displacing papers, desk, and books indiscriminately, he stared down at his bare shins.

No casts?

The handsome man stared dumbly for a moment. Then in the way that a hunter focuses the sight on their weapon, Barimus flexed his othersenses. The wizard deftly picked up the sharp tang of foreign sorcery beneath the thick agrimony smoke. Someone had used magic on his body, and he was able to read the spell in the same manner any person might read a book. It had been specifically drafted to heal his broken legs, fusing the bone, repairing the bruised muscles and damaged sinew. This was a skilled enchantment, one that could only have been performed by a magus with knowledge of both healing and magic. There were none in Kingsbury that he knew with such abilities.

Hesitantly, as though he were afraid his foot would fall off, the Wallmaker's brother wiggled his big toe, and experienced no pain. He slowly bent one knee and then the other, gently pivoting and stretching. Emboldened by his success, Barimus swung his legs over the edge of the bed and placed his feet firmly on the floor. Sitting there with hunched shoulders, he marveled over how amazing the littlest things could be, when not taken for granted.

It was then that he heard his wife's voice in the adjoining room. Martha rarely spoke and even more rarely used such a gracious tone.

"I am in your debt, Healer Yewin… truly grateful you traveled so far to help my husband."

"Not at all, Lady Martha," replied a jovial voice that was gruff and scratchy like an old man's beard, "It's good to get out of Marda every so often. Besides, Prince Justin was on his way here anyway to see your Emperor. I'm only sorry it was such dire circumstances that brought me here."

"Would you like some tea, Master Yewin?" Barimus recognized Theresa's gentle voice.

Tea indeed! The red wizard did not think he would ever be able to stand the stuff ever again.

"No, thank you sweetheart. It's late and I must be off! Need to see those ruddy Coucilor's about this madness of enchanted bells and banishing mirrors. See that Barimus gets well right quick. It's rather clear that he's the brains behind that colossus, and right now those idiots are bumbling about without a head."

But Master Yewin lingered, clearly wanting to chitchat. So the man was a Mardan magi-healer? Perhaps he could be enticed to stay and teach at the Royal Academy of Magic? But the red wizard was of two minds about this new master; he did not like the chummy tone with which the magi spoke to Theresa. It was too friendly, in his opinion. However, his attention fixed with absolute singularity on the conversation that followed.

"Have you seen that poor man? You know, the cursed Wizard Guard they brought back by portal magic from Market Chipping around dinner time?"

"His name is Seran," Martha replied in a quiet voice.

"Well, word travels quickly in the Palace, you know. Too bad about his friend, the solider that was eaten… horrible, horrible…" Muttered the man huskily, "It seems like the daemon's curse is lingering long about this poor fellow, Seran you said? Did you hear? Its effecting other's, anyone that touches him. One of the responding solider laid hands on him accidentally, and lost a quite a few years. Turned grey as a field mouse, he did!"

The red wizard almost went storming into the antechamber at that. Daemons in Market Chipping? One of the Wizard Guard was cursed and a soldier dead? Had the whole world fallen apart while he was sleeping? As he attempted to stand, stabbing pains shot through his legs and he was forced to sit, clutching at the footboard and barely containing a groan through his gritted teeth. Apparently the Mardan's magic did not cure all his ills; there was still a fair deal of painful atrophy and stiffness. But the man remained silent, hoping to hear more of what was going on in Ingary, since his family conspired to keep him oblivious.

"Prince Justin says King Ferdinand is in a tizzy. His Highness has even called King Walden down from Tyrn to try and reason with the Emperor. To a certain point, I don't know that I can blame him, with what the Daemon Queen let loose on the country. But this is pure foolishness: banning daemon magic, burning enchanted objects, and hunting down spirits like they're some kind of plague. I'm surprise the Wallmaker hasn't pitched a fit!"

Barimus was a well-trained courtier, and had an excellent ear for intrigue. He could hear the man's subtle digs for information; apparently this Master Yewin was fishing for more than kitchen talk. For some reason he appeared to be interested in Howl. The Mardan Magi were known for their ambitions as much as their notorious gossip. The blond man couldn't help but grin; if this wizard knew anything about Martha, he would realize he was barking up the wrong tree.

"I'm a hedge witch, Master Yewin. I would not presume to known what the Wallmaker does." The herbalist stated in a flat voice, whose tone made it rather clear she had finished with the conversation. The dark-haired woman was capable of courteousness, but only up until a certain point.

"Quite right you are," The man's lame reply was inarticulate, "Well, I'm off! I shall call again to check on the Lord Councilor's condition. Good bye, Lady Martha. Good bye, dear sweet little Theresa."

Barimus heard the door to the antechamber close and moments later his wife's apprentice let out a great sigh.

"Yuck!" The freckle-faced girl exclaimed in disgust.

Martha let out an unfettered laugh that made his heart melt. The golden-eyed man grinned and reflected on the nature of karma.

Standing again, the tall sorcerer clung to the corner of the bed and waited on wobbly legs until the pain passed. It did not hurt so much this time, although he nearly fell over again as a wave of light-headedness rushed through him. For a moment he was robbed of sight, but that too was fleeting. Regardless of his weakness, the blond man did not care to remain in bed any longer. He had to get out of this room and see to both King and Country. Using tables as support, he had just tottered to the doorway, which was open a crack. He nearly fell in surprise as someone came bursting into the antechamber. Barimus hesitated, listening in shamelessly.

"Dieter?" Martha exclaimed in surprise.

"Peoter, Lady Martha," the green-eyed twin huffed breathlessly.

"Dieter!" Theresa growled firmly, and the red wizard could hear the freckled man grinning in the silence that followed. The twins like to play games at the most inappropriate times.

"I concede, little mistress," The man's burnished bronze voice was full of warm jest, although his tone chilled into seriousness as he spoke again to the herbalist. "Moments ago we learned that someone told King Ferdinand the Daemon Queen is still alive. Several Councilors have pronounced there is a correlation between the attack in Market Chipping and the monster's presence. The emperor is inclined to agree, although as of recent his majesty seems not to need much of a reason for anything. He's deployed an entire battalion of the army, including several airships, into the city and the surrounding countryside, including the wastes."

"Market Chipping is already occupied," Martha's reply seemed nonplussed, although Barimus could hear the slight tremble in her voice. His wife was terrified of daemons, in spite of her boldness in the recent battle.

How did the cat get out of the bag so quickly? The twin hadn't said who told the king, and the blond wizard knew for a fact that Howl would not have divulged such sensitive information. And if he had, his younger brother certainly would not have tolerated the monarch to deploy an army into the wastes. The Wallmaker was particularly protective of Market Chipping and its surrounding countryside. Barimus' mind began to turn furiously. Someone had been listening at doors, but to what purpose? But there was more, and Dieter continued.

"He's authorized the distribution of both bells and banishing mirrors to non-magical soldiers."

No one had much to say after that, because Barimus threw open the door to the bedroom giving everyone a fright. Hearing the wizard guard's last pronouncement expelled the golden-eyed man from any other thoughts. The Royal Wizard tried his best to stand imposingly, in spite of the fact that he was wearing only a nightshirt, and was forced to cling to the doorjamb for stability. Dieter, who had been stooped over trying desperately to catch his breath, whipped upright and saluted the Lord Councilor. Theresa let out a small squeak and turned as scarlet as the twin's uniform, fumbling to catch her garden hoe. As the red wizard's eyes fell on the dark-haired herbalist, he watched as all the color drained from her face.

"No, no, no!" Martha whispered; panic was bright in her voice as her green eyes went dark with dismay.

The green-garbed healer whisked forward with open palms, as though she were going to push the red wizard back into their bedroom. But her blond husband gently took hold of her wrists, and managed to stand firm against the desperate insistence in her eyes that he go back to bed. Sensing his resistance, the herbalist fought against him with the full fury of her silent persuasion. However, Barimus managed to dissuade the healer by seizing her into a bone-crushing embrace, and kissing her so ardently she turned to water in his hands. He drew back and gazed at her with both desperate love, and iron refusal to be shielded from the troubles of the world. But Martha stared back at him defiantly. All her worry, her fear for his well-being, and her frantic need to protect him burned like fire in her eyes. In spite of her hard expression, she clung to him dependently.

At that moment they were the only two people in the world.

"You have never before begrudged me my duty, beloved," the Royal Wizard murmured softly, brushing aside the wild hairs escaping the braid crowning her head. She leaned into his touch, although her eyes were still bright with dissent. The herbalist looked awful, nearly as bad as he had when Howl came to visit. His wife had never been fully well since the incident six years ago, and it frightened him to see her looking to ill. The greenish cast she took when she worked too hard had crept into her features, making her sallow and gaunt. The blond man was surprised Theresa hadn't drugged her as well.

"That was before," she replied simply. But just as her eyes began to shine with unshed tears, her words were brimming with meaning. Before the world went mad, they said, before people started dying, before you almost died.

"You and Theresa can't keep me cosseted forever," He murmured into her hair, the gentle admonishment was more for humor than reproach.

"You needed rest," she mumbled stubbornly.

"I can't sleep anymore, Martha. I'm needed."

"Yes," she replied in a whisper so faint he barely heard it, although her grip on him tightened possessively. She looked surprised as he hugged her just as tightly, a fierce look in his golden eyes.

"Help me, Martha. I can't do this alone."

She stared at him open mouthed as though she hadn't heard him correctly. But her jaw snapped shut and set itself in determination, as she nodded firmly, joy lightened the fear that once hardened her gaze. The Lord Councilor suddenly turned his eyes to Theresa, with a stern frown. The girl was bright pink, gently inspecting a cut on the back of Dieter's hand. Immediately aware of his look, she jumped to her feet, once again coloring to match the settee. The freckle-faced young girl came before them hesitantly, a fearful look in her eyes, but it melted as she noticed the warm humor in her Mistress' husband's eyes.

"Would you like some tea, Master Barimus?" She asked in a small voice, and the corners of the harsh frown twitched. She squealed as he shot out an arm and absorbed her into their embrace. My family, Barimus thought to himself as he held the two women he loved most in the world.

"You!" The Royal Wizard intoned, as he released his wife and her apprentice, pointing a finger at one half of the Captain of the Ingarian Wizard's Guard. Dieter was currently doing his best to inspect the ceiling.

"Sir?" The man replied briskly, and jumped to attention with a snappy salute.

"If I catch you or your twin flirting with Theresa ever again, I'll skin you! Got that? Now go find your brother, one of those blasted enchanted bells, and report back immediately with both. I don't care what time it is, we're going to see the King."

"Yes, my lord," Dieter replied with a grin. It was good to have the Lord Councilor back. He turned on his heel, and retreated from the room. After a moment the red wizard sagged against his wife, and she snaked her arms around his waist.

"Would you two be dears and help me back into the bedroom? I'm afraid I'll fall over if I don't have a sit…" Barimus spoke weakly.

"Oh! Find me some pants too."

xXx

Nox swayed gracefully, a smile of joy on his serene features.

The tall man swished his hands back and forth atop the flowers that grew tall in the wastes. As he walked, the blossoms came alive, clambering off of their stems like little living lights, dressed in petals and dew. The young little daemons danced about his feet, and waved from tall stalks, as they sang in a tiny chorus of jeweled voices. The bolder spirits among the creatures clung to the hem of his velvet violet cloak, they sang gleeful as he spun in place, and laughed out loud to hear the delight of his cousins. It was like listening to the sound of gold shining in the sun.

Following after him, Deirdre beamed brightly as much out of happiness to hear the flower spirits singing, as to know that someone other than her could see and hear them. She began to feel more and more comfortable in the man-daemon's presence. The kindness within him seemed to radiate from everything he did, in the same way the stars twinkle in the sky. She knew she could trust him, he had already proven that in the place beyond wherever here was. She was so glad to finally have a friend, that she forgot the pain in her arm, and the numbness that was beginning to spread to her fingers. However, unconsciously, she still favored the arm.

The movement was not lost to Nox's sharp eyes; the perceptive man communicated more with gesture and expression, than words. His humor shifted quickly.

The petal spirits gave a sigh of apprehension, and fled back to their mother flowers, as all around the star daemon seemed to still. The tall man turned and approached Drie with such purpose she flinched, and stopped dead in her tracks. But the look on his face was gentle concern, and he reached with a fluid gesture full of meaningfully towards her arm, a question bright in his eyes. Hesitantly at first, she extended her pale arm, and drew back the sleeve to show the wound just above her elbow. It did not hurt when it struck her, she had cried out from surprise more than pain. But now she felt lightheaded, as she realized the skin around the metal had begun to turn a sickly looking black. It itched horribly. So she was not as imperious as she once believed.

But apparently it was a serious matter to Nox, who cast her such a look of consternation and horror, that she uttered a nervous titter. The liquid look transformed into another question, his brow furrowed slightly as the words eluded him.

"How?" He managed to say finally, in a flat voice. Was he angry?

Deirdre looked away, shame hot on her cheeks. She could not seem to find the words to describe what had happened. But she realized she didn't need to. Instead she sent him a jumbled mess of sensory messages that would only make sense to other kindred. His response was interesting, a mixture of cold shock at the behavior of the humans, especially the wizard, and bright curiosity over the nature of Door. But his thought melted into hot rage over the violence that had taken place, before cooling into keen indigo sorrow over the loss of life, both human and spirit kin. It was wonderful to be able to communicate thus, in spite of the difficult subject matter.

For the first time that she could remember in a long while, Deirdre felt comfortable in her own skin.

With gentle dark hands, the star daemon took hold of her arm at the elbow. His amethyst eyes softening contritely when she cringed in pain, hot tears started down her cheeks. Nox pulled the silver-haired girl against him for reassurance, as he ran his hand over the wound. In a flash of star fire her arm liquefied for a moment, and he snatched his closed fist away. Drawing back, he revealed to her the tiny slug of copper that glinted in his upturned palm. Inspecting her arm, the Wallmaker's daughter found only a faded mark that resembled a bruise. The silver-haired girl picked up the bullet. As she stared at it her mood shifted to the morose; this tiny bit of metal had cost a mortal's life. It all came rushing back to her, everything that had happened, how much had changed, and how alone she felt.

She gave Nox quite a fright when she crumbled against him as the little six-year-old inside her began wailing despondently. But the star daemon laughed compassionately in a sound like the rising sun. Wraping his arms around her, he gently swayed side to side. After a while she stopped cryinf and looked up at him somewhat contritely, only to see him smiling calmly at the sky overhead.

xXx

Door left the green mother, but did not go to the mortal city where she had been commanded.

The chimera felt so lost and small she knew not what to do. She understood that what green mother asked her to do was wrong, but what choice had she? Kill or be killed, her daemon-half growled within her. Door did not want to go back to the burned place; just the thought of it sent her to pieces. She wanted to stay in this world, feeling the warm sun on her bare limbs, breathing air that was clean and fresh. She wanted to meet the silver mother. She wanted so many things that she had never even thought about as a daemon. But most of all, she wanted to be with the other. The silver sister felt so clean and wholesome, being near her made Door feel the same. The chimera was touched by the madness beyond the black barrier; she knew it because she felt it tainting her very being. Killing the old mortals made her feel even more sullied, like she was mired in tar and could not escape.

She needed to feel whole again, and so she sought out the other.

Although they could not communicate over great distances, it was never hard to find the silver sister. All she had to do was follow the line that connected them; as such she emerged from the portal on the wastes to the north. Door immediately liked these untouched moors, daemon kin lived here freely, and old magic seeped deeply into the ground. Petal spirits laughed and sang to her, as they emerged from the flowers all around her.

But even here there were the marks of humans.

A tiny building, too small to be a dwelling, showed plainly in the bowl of a gently sloping valley below. As the half-daemon stared at it, the mortal magic imbibed in its bricks and mortar crept through her senses, filling her with a violent rage. Even here the flawed touch of mortals could be seen. Must they ruin everything? She was distracted from the urge to smash the building to pieces, as an overwhelming rush of sorrow filled her. The other was crying again. Tenderness and worry filled the chimera, as she hasted to find the silver-haired child-woman. But not far beyond the building Door stopped dead in her tracks.

There in the distance on the shores of a series of high alpine lakes, was the other. But she was not alone.

Door burned with rage of a different kind, an emotion she had never felt before: jealousy. There was another daemon with Deirdre, tall and with hair as white as snow. She sniffed, catching faint hints of his magic. It was a star demon; a male. That gave her pause because he was a powerful ancient; far too old and full of magic for her to attack. But what was he doing with the silver sister? She peered intently at them. He was holding her, comforting her; indeed she could feel the blue-eyed child-woman rise out of her sorrow into happiness. How dare he? That was her right! Silver sister was hers and hers alone!

_MINE! _Door's thought echoed thick and black with furry, as her hand's coalesced into claws. The half-daemon did not think she could ever hate someone more than the Wallmaker, but apparently she was wrong. A growl rose unbidden from her throat, thrumming deeply in her chest. The flower spirits that had been dancing around her suddenly fled her rage in terror. But the daemon was brought up short by another presence that approached from the north. The ancient had the smell of the Beginning in its magic. This spirit was older still than the star daemon, and the menace in its intent chilled the chimera. She experienced a moment of fear for the other, but her instincts took over and the doppelganger fled the wastes.

Kill or be killed, the daemon within rumbled.

xXx

Markl wasn't the only one in the castle who was having trouble sleeping.

Akarshan stared at the ceiling in his room. Listening to the gentle ping and clang of the wind chimes his father had made for him did nothing to make him feel sleepy. At first he thought that he was hungry, because there was an anxious feeling in his stomach. But he had glutted himself on éclairs earlier at Auntie Lettie's shop, so it couldn't be that. Perhaps it was because his mother yelled at him and hadn't tucked him in? Perhaps it was because Deirdre had left? He missed his sister immensely, even thought it had been only a few hours.

The first night his mother came home with his sister they had spent in their parent's room. The second night he crept into Drie's room after Sophie tucked them both in. It was great to be a twin, he decided that the moment he saw his sister. Sure, she had changed a bunch, but it didn't bother him at all. She was the same inside; it didn't matter what she looked like on the outside. It didn't even bother him that she was scary sometimes. Besides, Deirdre was all kinds of fun. Plus she could fly! Maybe she'd teach him how sometime soon?

He had hoped that things would go back to normal, but the more he thought about it, things probably never would. Akarshan wasn't sure what had happened, but he knew something big had changed. He saw it in his mother's eyes. Wherever she had gone had been a bad place, he could tell by the way papa grabbed onto her, like he was afraid she would go away again. Shan grabbed on to her the same way when she first came back. Was Deirdre going to go away too?

When Shan heard his brother's door open and shut, he sat bolt upright in bed. Creeping out after his brother, he almost followed him downstairs when he smelled something funny. The squirrely feeling in his stomach started up again, and the little blue-eyed boy decided to snoop. He listened to his brother and Calcifer talk, baffled by their conversation. Why was Markl was digging around in his father's pockets? The queasy feeling in his belly got worse as his father's student pulled a roll of paper from one of the coats checkered sleeves. The raven-haired boy dashed to his feet and hid in his sister's room, as he realized that both Calcifer and his brother were coming upstairs. But they didn't go into Markl's room, instead they continued down the long hallway to the workshop door. Akarshan wasn't allowed to go into his father's office alone, so he had assumed neither could anyone else. Intrigued, he followed along.

Sitting on the step at the top of the stairs, the six-year-old listened intently to the silence within the room. Shan was a very hyper little boy for whom sitting still had two opposite effects: he would either vibrate in place, or fall fast asleep. The later was the case, and soon the Wallmaker's youngest son was fast asleep. However, he was jerked out of a dream of falling stars as Howl's apprentice quitted the workshop, and quite literally flew down the stairs.

"Markl! Wait!" Calcifer cried, completely overlooking the raven-haired little boy, as he went speeding after the young wizard.

Shan stood up and tottered into the well-lit workshop in a state of half sleep. Tired by the day's events, his normally all encompassing state of curiosity was bested by his need for a warm place to lie down. So the raven-haired boy curled up in the corner of the room on a pile of cushions. Reaching blindly, he pulled something akin to a blanket off of the wall above him.

Akarshan wrapped himself up in the sheet, oblivious to the naked mirror next to him.

xXx

_Why do you cry, little star? _Nox's query curled like a crystalline ocean wave within her mind, as he turned his eyes back to her from the sky overhead.

As she clung to the star from another world, pressing her face into the soft velvet of his cloak, she told him everything in a great gush of sight, sound, and smell. The man-daemon processed the life story of the Wallmaker's daughter without even a flinch, although his liquid eyes grew dark and serious. Deirdre had never told anyone about how she and Door had come to be together, or about how they separated. Nor had she described the cold difficult life she endured with Mrs. Danna, or the horrible things the cold healer had forced her to do in the otherworld. The man-daemon drew back and stooped to gaze straight into her eyes.

_No more tears, silver one. I am here to help, it is why I fell. We go to see your parents! _Nox replied briskly as his face burst into the dazzling smile of a person who has absolute confidence in himself. He seized her hand, half starting up into the air surrounded by bright star fire. But Deirdre yanked him back down like an anchor mooring a ship with sails full of the wind.

"We can't go now!" She cried incredulously in mortal words, "It is the middle of the night. Mother and father are probably fast asleep. Perhaps we should wait until morning?"

Nox sank slowly to the ground with confusion plain on his face, his snow white hair was wild about his face.

"Please… What is sleep?" Nox asked in his halting human speech. Deirdre stared at him, quite at a loss for what to say.

But they were both distracted from a conversation about human complications, by a strange vertigo sensation. An unusual spicy smell filled Deirdre's nose, as an odd premonition rattled her stomach with restrained excitement: something was coming.

"What's that smell?" She asked Nox curiously.

However, her companion was standing bolt upright, his violet eyes distant as he gazed off to the north, toward the heart of the wastes. The flower daemons, who had still been singing to them in hopeful song, sudden silenced winking out of the mortal world. The premonition changed, where once it was familiar and filled her with excitement, the sensation left her feeling cold and heavy with dread. The darkly tanned man-daemon suddenly stepped in front of her, a serious expression flitting across his features. The look did not suite the star daemon, Deirdre decided

"What is it, Nox?" She asked again, fearful now as she reached out to take a handful of his velvet cloak. The ground beneath their feet trembled violently as a resounding rumbling emanated deep from under them.

The tremors ceased, and there was a tense moment of silence. Suddenly the ground before them split with an earth-shattering roar, rearing up into a towering figure of rock, loam, and green growing things. Deirdre was assaulted by bits of dirt in addition to an overpowering smell of rain and wet clay, like a forest after a violent summer shower. The great elemental solidified, in the way that mud and packed soil settle beneath rainwater. Twisting vines, covered in sprouting leaves, moved through its shape like living snakes. Clods of dirt fell away as it passed a gnarled hand of roots over its face, revealing a human-like visage amongst the long grass and flowers of its hair.

The immeasurable depths in the ancient being's eyes swirled with furious mysteries, glittering at them like points of obsidian. The tremendous earth spirit was old, the Wallmaker's daughter realized; older than Nox, older than wizards. And she was angry; _very_ angry. The ancient drew herself up, towering above them, as she gathered rocky handfuls of herself, and hurled man-sized boulders at the pair. The silver-haired girl shrieked as the star daemon stood firmly rooted before her. Nox hummed resonantly, and a pulse of magic emitted from him like a wave of tangibility. The huge rocks fixed in place, and then fell harmlessly at his feet.

_LEAVE MORTALS! _The earth spirit thundered in a sound akin to the splintering of thousands of trees. She lashed at the green hills around her with the intertwining vines that made up the garment of her form. Her limbs groaned and creaked like the boughs of a wood in the strongest of gales. Unperturbed, Nox did not move.

_We are not mortals, Mother Ancient._ The star daemon replied calmly, and his voice rang loudly in Drie's mind like a bronze bell. The white-haired man reached out his hands peacefully, but the elemental was not so easily pacified.

_The Wastes are mine! Touch my children and I will destroy you! _Bellowed the earth spirit, as she bent towards them menacingly, green fire burning in her eyes like cinders.

_Look close and be tranquil, Green Spirit. Would I hurt my own kin? _The star-man replied with gentle humor. Finally the great daemon of earth and rock seemed to see through her rage, peering closely at Nox and the silver-haired girl. Deirdre cringed in terror, clinging to the violet-eyed man as a mind brushed her own that was so vast it sent her knees trembling. When the earth mother spoke again, her words flourished a verdant viridian in Drie's othersenses, unfurling like a great branching fern.

_I know you, kindred; you are the Elder Star. Do you flee here from the red ones?_

_The red ones? _Nox asked curiously, turning his bright eyes over his shoulder to where Deirdre was hiding.

"The wizard with the bell and the mirror," Deirdre whispered fearfully, one eye on the man-daemon and the other on the giant ancient. The earth mother stiffened at the sound of human speech, astonishment bright in her dark eyes. The ground shuddered again as the elemental tore up the roots at her base, scattering dirt and leaves into the air, and lumbered forward with slow purpose. The Wallmaker's daughter shrank in terror. The fallen star gave a surprised yelp as Drie unconsciously pulled him backwards, attempting to hide in his shadow. But as the ancient bent from her waist to lower her eyes closer to the pair of tiny half-daemons, there was no longer any malice in the earth mother.

_You speak the mortal words, Star Daemon?_

_I hear them, but the words are still beyond me. The silver one speaks them well. _Nox replied to the giant as though they were having polite conversation over Sunday tea. The man-daemon gently guided Deirdre from behind him, presenting her to the ancient. However, it took a moment to pry her hands from his cloak. _She is the daughter of the Wallmaker._

This seemed to give the soil spirit pause, and the embodiment of the hills nodded respectfully.

_The Wallmaker is well known to us. _

Again she peered intently at the girl, leaning forward so closely that the silver sorceress' daughter could see the individual leaves that clung like ivy to the daemon's form. In spite of her terror, the spirit smelled good; her sweet loamy smell made Drie want to roll in the grass. The daemon of the wastes took in a great breath and recoiled sharply, her curling roots once again thrashing about in response to her disquiet.

_She smells of the Mad One! _The spirit thundered, as the fire crept back into her eyes.

But Nox threw up his hands again, drawing the daemon's attention. _The Mad One has coerced many, Earth Mother. Both mortal and daemon alike have felt her power. But she has fallen; the Wallmaker himself tore away her kindred._

_You are wrong if you think that I fear the Mad One, Elder Star. She is weak and broken, but she owns the claws belonging to this one's Other. In her hands I see the Doom. _The living behemoth of leaves and soil stabbed a finger shaped root at Deirdre, who again reached for a handful of velvet.

_Enough talk! I tire of mortals failings. They are young and spoiled and have forgotten the truce. They needlessly send my children to the Dark! If they continue to unbalance the Worlds the Wall will fall and we all will perish._

The elemental turned the full power of her attention again to Deirdre; the ancient's thoughts boiled like dark storm clouds, dripping with menace and warning.

_You must make words for our Kindred with the mortals. You must make the Red Ones stop. Some Ancients are not as patient as I; they will not wait for the young ones to come to their senses. If it must, War will be had to save the Otherworld._

With that the Spirit of the Wastes closed her eyes and leaned backwards. With a great shudder, the column of leaves, rock, and soil collapsed into a mound of lifeless mud. In the silence that followed, there was nothing but the sound of wind running through the fields of the wastes. Nox appeared to be just as shocked and dismayed by the Ancient's words, as was Deirdre.

"Perhaps we should wake up mother and father?" The silver-haired child-woman whispered.


	7. Chapter 7: The Silver Blade

**The Daemon Wars: Part IV of the Wallmaker Saga**

**Chapter 7: The Silver Blade**

Markl didn't hear a single word of what Calcifer said.

Ever instinct in his body told him to get to the capital as quickly as possible; to get to his aunt Martha. The young wizard tore down the stairs, his feet not even touching the ground. He alighted in front of the herb cabinet in the kitchen, and snatching open one of the drawers he fished out a bright red piece of chalk.

Markl rushed to the front door of the castle. Still ignoring the fire daemon's angry prattle, the russet-haired boy turned the dial to red and began deftly sketched the crisp vectors of the circle magic on the wooden planks. Howl's apprentice had done very little portal magic in his life time. Once, at his mother's desperate request, he had fashioned a spell that brought them immediately to the top of the palace stairs in Ingary. He had been very young at the time, about as old as Akarshan was now. For an apprentice of his current age such a spell was still an incredible feat. But Markl was not nearly as afraid as he had been the first time. Howl had given him quite a few lessons in portal travel since that time and he trusted his master's instruction. The brown-eyed young man marveled on multiple occasions the way the raven-haired wizard did not need to use circles to perform magic. There was the time the Wallmaker had brought Shan, Theresa, and he to his aunt's shop. His master simply dragged his hand across the door to shift the magic embedded in the colored dial.

But thoughts of his mother's dark-haired sister made him work faster.

"Markl! Oi, Mark! I can't go with you. At least tell me what's happening?" The fire daemon yelled in frustration. The spark was right in his ear and still he only half heard him. The living flame reached out a thin arm and gently tapped the boy's head. Some of his hair singed and let up a small curl of smoke.

"Ouch!" Markl yelped and batted at the side of his head, turning a furious face toward the fire daemon. But the young sorcerer shrank from the fuming ball of vermillion that threw himself right in has face.

"You're not listening to me, you ruddy wizard! I can't leave the castle while it's in the air! I can't go with you so at least tell what's wrong?"

"I have to go! Martha… Cal, show Howl the papers! I have to go!" Mark sputtered anxiously as he sketched the last mark in the circle with a slashing motion. Suddenly the drawing came alive with deep purple light and the young man ripped open the door, exposing a distant hallway somewhere in the Ingarian capital. Calcifer went cross-eyed and pink for a moment as the insides of the castle shifted.

"Markl!" Calcifer managed to shout in spite of his discomfort. But the thin boy dove through the doorway and slammed the door shut.

xXx

Door hated the palace; it stank of mortals and the magi. The combination made her very nervous.

While between worlds the half-daemon was troubled to discover mirrors in the room where she had been born again had been shattered. To spirits, mirrors are like the surface of water, a thin membrane in between the worlds through which one could slip with ease. That is if you could find them in the first place. With her old doorways gone, the half-human was forced to create a portal. This was an act she was loath to make because it would alert any wizards in the area to the presence of her magic. As she rose up from the floor, the chimera immediately went on guard but was greeted only by silence.

The room was empty, save for the twittering of distant ghosts.

The smell of the Dark was thick as smoke in the room, it made her gag and sent a shiver down her spine. The burned place was very near to this place, too near for her liking. Bad things had happened here, and the tall silver-haired half-daemon was desperate to leave as quickly as she had come. However, she did take a moment to inspect the goose-pimples that stood up her arms with perplexed fascination.

Broken glass crunched harmlessly under her bare feet. With sharp eyes she cast her gaze around the room, seeking for the knife only to find it missing. Frustration rose within her like the heat that climbed into her face. However, it suddenly turned to rage as she sniffed and caught wind of a familiar smell.

_Him_… Door seethed as her sight went red as blood.

The daemon tasted the strength of his magic and knew the Wallmaker had been here very recently. Through eyes black as pitch she could see the lingering outline of the wizard footsteps as clearly as though the tall mortal had been walking in snow. Again she was amazed at how much she hated the man, so much so she forgot to ask herself why. She followed the sorcerer's tracks as they crisscrossed through the room, visible only in her daemon sight. But the marks began to muddy as other fleeting impressions of living beings rose up in her senses. Many humans had been in this room since the time she was brought out of the burned place. There was no telling who might have picked up the blade. With a shudder Door recalled the cold tang of the magic in the silver knife and then relished the memory of the hot red blood that it had given her.

Suddenly she was hungry again. But very soon that would be remedied.

Focusing her entire will upon the smell of the metal blade, she sniffed again. Like a distant echo filtering from afar, she caught the tangible thread of its smell. Slipping into the skin of the mortal solider she had eaten earlier. Doing her best to ignore the overwhelming sensation of revulsion, Door followed the bright bitter aroma of silver. Several times she had to linger at a distance, feeling the acute pressure of an approaching mage; but apparently the man's skin masked her own presence. It was the same as when she had worn the skin of the empty woman whose blood and flesh brought her back from the beyond. Green mother was very clever, the daemon reflected. Door chew on a thought: perhaps if she ate the cold woman she would gain her cunning as well as her skin. But the mortal was too smart for her to outwit; besides, she was a slave to the woman's every whim.

The daemon's skin began to crawl as she drew closer to the knife. Although the narrow hallways became wider and the ceilings taller, the smell of people was thick around her, making her more and more claustrophobic with every step. But she became bolder after several humans dressed in silly clothes passed her by, oblivious to her true nature. The mortal men had hair on their faces just below their nose. The doppelganger thought it looked absolutely ridiculous. Indeed, the human skin she wore had whiskers under his nose as well; it itched horribly.

And the stink of man! Door felt she would never be rid of it.

Several times she stopped to stare at large pieces of wood on the wall covered in bright colors that looked like people. At first she thought they were strange mirrors, until she poked them and found the surface solid. Next, she peered out of a large glass-paned window at the bright lights of the city outside. How pretty, she thought; but not as beautiful as the sea. It was late, nearly midnight; she could tell from the height of the moon. But the humans bustled about like it was day. Curious creatures, did they not need to sleep? She would never have been interested in the habits of mortals had she been purely daemon. But Door was fascinated by the silver sister, and she attempted to understand the other by observing the mortals around her.

Taking up her hunt once more, an anxious feeling began to twist in the pit of her stomach as she moved through a series of sterile feeling hallways. More and more the people around her wore olive uniforms, an unsettling sight since they were almost identical to what the green mother wore. The scent of the blade was so strong it made her insides twist wildly with nausea; but draped over the smell like a thin sheet was the sharp tang of wizard's magic. However, the chimera was forced onward by the command of the cold woman. Pushing through a set of double doors, the daemon stood stark still at the end of a long ward full of beds filled by injured men and women. Some were dressed in soldier's habits, but the majority of the humans were garbed in crimson red.

_This is the den of the red ones_… Door thought to herself, doing her best not to flee in spite of the irrational feral madness that crept into her mind. This place was brimming with mortal thoughts, smells, and the loud echoing chatter of their voices. The half-daemon knew she could not leave without the knife; however, she did wait a moment, ready to cast open a portal at a moment's notice. But thanks to the mortal husk she wore like a garment, no one seemed to notice her. The blade was beyond this room, the disguised half-human knew that fact with such assurance she rushed briskly through the large dormitory. Her belly once again performed a flip-flop as a man with a bandage around his face resting in the beds began peering at her fiercely. Door quickened her pace as she passed, ignoring the mortal as he called a foreign name after her.

The daemon burst through a set of double doors on the other side of the room and wove through a narrow series of hallways before emerging into some kind of equipment storehouse. The acrid stench of blood, sweat, and metal permeated every inch of the room. Standing at a counter enclosed by metal bars was a solider in a robin colored uniform. He was currently being confronted by a girl with fiery red hair that twisted into two knots. Door noted there were leaves in the young woman's curls. The small human waved a piece of red colored paper in the clerk's face, her green eyes bright with annoyance. Somehow the mortal child looked familiar.

"I know its evidence, but the _Lord_ Councilor wants it! Do you want me to have to go back empty handed to the _Royal_ Wizard and explain that some clerk didn't feel right handing off a knife to a _kid_?"

Reluctantly, the man slid a piece of black velvet through the bars of the cage. Door's heart hammered in her chest: within the cloth was swathed the knife. She began to loose her grip on the dead man's skin as her lust for blood consumed her and she felt her hands coalesce into claws. But the mortal child swept the object into her hands and turned to exit the room through an adjacent pair of doors. But she was brought up short by a pair of uniformed soldiers came in and blocked her way. Hanging from their belts was a pair of bells that began ringing violently where once they were silent.

"Don't worry!" Called the man at the caged desk, "She's okay, it's just that blasted knife again."

The soldiers parted for the freckle-faced girl, gentle smiles replacing their previous trepidation as the green garbed child disappeared out the doorway. However, their grins dissolved as the bells continued to ring once the red-haired girl had gone, increasing their intensity as Door stepped forward. All eyes turned to her as the men went grey faced with horror.

"I swear I saw Gerold! It's him, I know it," insisted the bandaged man as he pushed through the other set of doors dragging a reluctant red garbed wizard behind him.

"He's dead, Darren! You've been seeing all manner of things since you hit your head…" The sorcerer's reply was cut short as a bell at his waist, the twin to the two that were already sounding, suddenly added its voice to the ringing in the room. All of them men fumbled in their pockets for the small round mirrors that had passed out just that evening. But they were far too late. Not even the bars on the cage would stop her.

Kill or be killed, the daemon within Door thrummed lustily.

xXx

Sophie was snoring in a very unlady like fashion.

Howl grinned in the mellow twilight that filled their room, pressing his face into her hair as he tucked her head under his chin. His wife was still exhausted, which was very apparent from the deep sleep in which she was currently immersed. The Wallmaker himself had been dozing lightly, but something had drawn him away from sleep. It was not the gentle chimes of the spinning mobiles overhead; nor was it the soft sounds of sleep issuing from the silver haired woman beside him. The anxious premonition was back, twisting in the narrow space just beneath his heart. But he ignored it, holding Sophie closer in his arms, and did his best to avoid the guilt that rose unbidden in his mind.

How many times had he forsaken his responsibility as the last Wallmaker for the sake of his family? In spite of the joy of their reunion, their lives had become ever so much more complicated as of recent. The blue-eyed wizard reflected on the fact that Markl was nearly a man with great pride. But he knew with a pang of regret that it meant his eldest son would leave his apprenticeship. It was uncommon for master and journeyman wizards to live under the same roof, but it was not unheard of. Sophie was a powerful witch, but her sorcery was still wild and inconsistent, springing from intuition and emotion. Furthermore, the sorceress of the silver flame took a very restrained approach to her magic; one not suited for instruction. He had two children to care for now, both gifted in magic and in dire need of teaching. Perhaps his apprentice would stay and help him?

Reflecting on his tall silver-haired daughter, Howl brooded over her complicated circumstances. Deirdre's needs were… unique. With a stab of despair the sorcerer dwelled on the fact that he might not be able to give her all that she needed. They had much in common, he and his lost child. As the Wallmaker he was forced to live between two worlds; but as a wizard it was easy to mediate the balance between the mortal and otherworlds. However, his daughter had would be forced to exist between two races, and humans had become very intolerant of daemons as of recent. Her life would be very difficult.

For some reason he was reminded of the naked sky over Kingsbury.

The tall wizard knew he should have stayed to help sort out the chaos left in the wake of the Daemon Queens attack. He knew he should not have left Kingsbury so hastily hearing the news of daemons and death in Market Chipping. He should have gone to see the king about the bells and mirrors. He should be figuring out some may to restore the shields over the capital. He should be in the otherworld right now, stabilizing the echoes of magic that were no doubt eroding the Dull Wall. At that very moment he should be hunting down the cold woman. With harsh regret, Howl reconsidered not killing Earin Danna in her moment of weakness for once again the long shadows of her influence were causing devastation. But the consequences of such actions left him feeling crippled and lost. A bitter revelation filled him with the knowledge that there was no such thing as the right decision: no matter what he chose to do, someone he loved would suffer at his hands.

For a wild moment of fury, Wallmaker hated his gift of magic.

But the Howl was pulled from his gloomy thoughts by the sound of Calcifer's voice as it streaked by his door on a wave of the otherwind. What the devil! Sophie snorted softly but continued to snore as the bed shifted whilst the sorcerer gently extricating himself from his wife. The raven-haired man dressed quickly and strode with barefoot silence down the hall.

"Markl!" The handsome man heard Calcifer shout over the sound of the front door as it slammed just. Just as Howl reached the bottom of the stairs the bright smell of his apprentice's magic brushed past him. For a brief moment he caught sight of the dwindling circle magic on the back of the front door.

"Calcifer?" Howl cried in confused dismay as he rushed forward to stand at the top of the front stairs. The fire daemon flared up with a chittering crackle, coloring a surprised pink as he spun in place to regard his best friend with huge eyes.

"Howl, Mark…" The living spark blurted out anxiously. But his words transformed into a terrified yelp as the dial next to the door issued a clicking chirp as it twisted from the red mark to the pink. The fire daemon whisked up the steps and fluttered fearfully just beyond the cerulean-eyed wizard's shoulder just as the front door opened again. The fragrant night air of the flower covered moors swept into the flying castle, eddying about Deirdre as she strode forward. She entered with brisk steps leading a tall man with snow white and luminous violet eyes.

"Papa!" Drie exclaimed in surprise as she came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs. Flabbergasted, the Wallmaker threw up a hand as the brightness surrounding the stranger blinded his othersight.

With the eyes that pierced the mortal veil, Howl could see his daughter held a star by the hand.

xXx

King Ferdinand, Emperor and sovereign ruler of Ingary, twitched his moustache irritably.

He was exhausted, peevish, and wanted to drink a pint of the darkest coldest beer he could find before going to his bed. Talk of magic always made him itchy, probably because he didn't understand half of what the magi were talking about. What he did understand was his country was under threat, his people were being killed, and it was his duty to protect them through any means possible. As such, he did not understand why the Royal Wizard was lecturing him like a young school boy about all this nonsense of balance and other worlds.

Ferdinand was not angry with, Barimus; in fact he was overjoyed to see the tall blond man once again. However, the wizard's wife gave him quite a fright; the dark haired woman loomed behind the chair in which her husband sat like a great living statue. To her left was one of the Captains of the Ingarian Wizards Guard; he had no idea which one he was. The blasted twins looked exactly alike, which made him feel at a loss whenever he spoke with them. But at least they spoke! The ruler of Ingary could not remember the last time he'd heard the Herbalist speak; plus, he swore the woman never blinked. Stone faced and grim, the herbalist was the exact opposite of the gregarious, well spoken Lord of the Wizard's Council.

Now there was another thorn in his side. The Councilors had been at him constantly for the last three days; demanding that he command Barimus chose an heir, especially in light of his poor health. Out of respect for the sorcerer's health he had forbid anyone to speak of it with him. Indeed, the wizard looked like he was well on the mend for one that was half-dead three days ago. Ferdinand marveled at the capabilities of magic. Barimus had broken both of his shins, something that would have taken normal people months to heal. But not wizards; the Royal Sorcerer moved painfully and needed his wife's help to walk, but his bones were whole. The healer magus Prince Justin brought from Marda had seen to that. But recent events had reminded everyone of just how mortal they all could be; especially the magi. King Ferdinand knew he would not be able to avoid the subject forever.

The rust-colored king did his best not to let his attention drift; turning his eyes back over his huge desk to regard the golden-eyed sorcerer. He owed his life to this man; without he and his brother the Wallmaker, the capital would be in ruins and they would probably all be dead. That was why he was doing his best to be patient with the Lord Councilor. That was why he was desperately trying to understand why the wizard was so upset about the bells and mirrors. He himself thought it was a brilliant plan, especially since it no longer left his soldiers at the mercy of daemons.

Another of his men had died today at the hands of the monsters, and one of the Wizard Guards had cursed horribly. Ferdinand himself had seen what daemons could be like; they were terrifying creatures out of the worst of his nightmares. Moreover, they could look just like people! He remembered with a shudder the screeching wail of the silver haired creature that he had encountered in the shield room. Furthermore, in the dimmest of his memories he remembered the Mage Wars and the furies from hell it had unleashed onto the world. No, this world was the only one that matter in his mind, this world and the people in it. If it meant sending daemons back to wherever they came from, well then so be it!

And then there was this business of the daemon queen still being alive. Just thinking about the beast turned his blood to ice. How had is escaped the Wallmaker? He himself had watched through the golden barrier as the raven-haired wizard had transformed into a great winged creature and then tore the black hydra limb from limb. Apparently it had survived somehow. With the sky above them was unprotected the ruler of Ingary was very nervous; he would have to send word to the Wallmaker about this. Perhaps he could rebuild the shield?

But the king's thoughts turned away from the conversation back to the hideous beast that half destroyed his city. The plain faced sorceress with the long red hair, what was her name? Merra; that was it, Merra of Marda, the water witch; she had offered her services in the pursuit of the daemon queen's whereabouts. The woman was well known for her ability to scry; Prince Justin himself had high regards for her. But of course, there was a price. The Mardan woman wanted him to agree to encourage Barimus to accept her son Nalir as his heir and apprentice. He had been informed by several Councilors that favored the idea that the red-haired young man was the top of his class. He was currently studying under Master Tirut, oldest and wisest on the Council. However, there was far more ambition in the boy than just a seat in the Circle of Magi.

Ferdinand was getting tired of the Council and their troubles. Sooner or later he would have to cave to their demands in order to get them to agree on anything. Fortuitously, solutions to two of his problems had been placed before him and the king did not have the luxury of being choosy in his current diplomacy. Suddenly, the barrel-chested king realized that Barimus was staring at him expectantly. In order to cover the fact that he really had not been listening, the king turned his attention to the waifish golden man seated to his right. Prince Justin, the uncrowned ruler of Marda, their neighbor to the east, was currently regarding Martha with misty eyes. It was no secret that the Prince had fallen madly in love with the Sorceress of the Silver Flame, and then after loosing her to the Wallmaker, the golden man had turned his attentions to her younger sister. Unfortunately, Justin was not very lucky in love.

"What do you make of all this, Justin?"

The handsome young prince blinked in surprise, furrowing his smooth white brow in thought. Justin knew quite a bit more about magic than the ruler of Ingary; Marda was almost as well known as Ingary for their magi. In spite of the man's delicate appearance and tendency towards emotionality, there was a quick mind beneath his golden curls. He and the emperor had become fast friends over the years after the Mardan War, and the bristled bearded man very much valued his advice.

"The balance in the otherworld is very important, Ferdinand. Anything that threatens the stability of the Dull Wall should be approached with caution. Perhaps you should wait to deploy your troops until we can consult the Wallmaker?"

That was the main reason why the Royal Wizard had come to see him in the middle of the night. Ferdinand had issued an order to deploy an entire battalion of his troops as well as several airships in response to the presence of daemons in Market Chipping. Every man would be armed with both an enchanted bell and banishing mirror, which the Councilors had been feverishly constructing since the fall of the shield.

"If we wait more of my people will die," Ferdinand growled, twitching his moustache irritably.

"It's not that simple, my Lord," Barimus began again holding out one of the bells once more, "There's no way to tell if the daemons your troops will find with the bells are touched by the Dark. If we banish too many untouched spirits, we threaten the Wall."

"This is perhaps why it is best to wait for the Wallmaker," Justin began again in a persuasive voice.

"The Wallmaker was just here and he did not seem to care to visit!" The ruler of Ingary bristled. Since when did a king need to wait to do what he knew was right for his country?

Suddenly the freckle-faced Captain stiffened and frowned furiously. His eyes flew wide and he kneeled next to Barimus and spoke quickly into the blond man's ear. With some difficulty, the Royal Wizard managed to stand, his face white with consternation.

"I have just been informed by Dieter that four soldiers and a wizard guard were found murdered in the royal armory," the golden-eyed man replied in an even voice.

"WHAT? HOW?" Thundered the king of Ingary incredulously.

"Eaten, my lord," The twin wizard spoke up, his face grey with horror, "Apparently by a daemon; the bells were what raised the alarm."

"I sent Theresa to the armory," The Royal Wizard grabbed Dieter by the arm, his golden eyes urgent with worry.

"Peoter said nothing of the child," Was the twin's reply.

"Is it still in the palace?" Justin's voice was a bit high pitched.

Almost as if in response to the Mardan prince's question, the bell in Barimus' hand began ringing softly. Every one in the room stared at it. As the bell began ringing louder, Martha turned and fled from the room.

"Martha!" Barimus called after his wife. But she had gone in search of her apprentice.

xXx

Howl's eldest son stumbled slightly as he exploded into the hallway just outside of Barimus' room.

The young wizard had purposefully chosen the doorway of his uncle's room as the exit point of his portal magic. Spinning on his heel, the young wizard threw open the door and called out his aunt's name only to find the chamber empty. Stunned, Markl was rooted in place for a moment quite at a loss for where to look next. He had only been in the palace a few times in his life and was hopelessly lost on all occasions. The herbalist was a workaholic so there was no telling where she could be. But she was wearing Barimus' talisman, and the young sorcerer could use its magic as a homing beacon. He had learned the trick from his father when Howl had once explained how the rings he and Sophie wore worked. It was a lot like scrying, but based on feeling rather than seeing. Focusing his inner eye on the image of his mother's dark-haired sibling, the young wizard let fly the thought and the purple amethysts at his ears pulsed brightly for a moment.

Suddenly, Markl knew exactly where his aunt was, and he shot off down the hallways like an arrow.

Blinding crashing around startled and harried servant half asleep as they tottered about on midnight errands, the young servant wound his way through the Kingsbury palace. Never once was he stopped, although several times a particularly haughty courtier called after his nastily as he thundered by. So intent was he on his mission, the young wizard did not sense the group of wizard apprentices until he literally crashed into their midst. As he came careening around a corner, there was little time for the russet haired boy to screech to a stop as he caught sight of the familiar young men and woman. There was no mistaking the colorful bunch. Nalir, dressed starkly in black velvet, was kneeling over a small crystal bowl filled with water. The surface of the liquid had turned to quicksilver, and was reflecting another place with the clarity of the clearest of mirrors. Trissa and Hedera were intently peering over the red haired boy's shoulders as Ryden kept watch down the opposite end of the hallway from which Markl emerged.

"Look out!" Ryden called in surprise just as he turned and caught sight of Markl as he streaked around the corner. The Wallmaker's apprentice tried desperately to halt, but momentum carried his upper body forward in spite of the desperate insistence from his feet, which told the rest of his body to stop. With a resounding smack, the russet haired boy crashed into the group sending them into a sprawling pile of limbs, with Nalir right on the bottom.

"Markl!" Ryden called out happily, reaching out one of his willowy limbs to pound the young boy on the back with good natured glee.

"GET OFF ME YOU BLITHERING IDIOTS!" Nalir roared in both pain and mad embarrassment as he thrashed wildly, which did nothing to help their predicament.

Because of their orientation prior to the crash, Markl landed right on top of the Hedera and Trissa. Unfortunately, or fortunately, one of the golden-eyed boy's hands ended up in a very inappropriate place on the pretty blond's chest. Realizing in horror just what was under his palm, the russet-haired boy turned as fuchsia as the plump girl's robes and snatched back his hand as though it were on fire.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" The Wallmaker's apprentice stammered wildly, placing his hand on Trissa's upper thigh as he tried to leverage himself off the pile of apprentices.

"Get off, Get Off, GET OFF!" Nalir howled, beginning to kick again. Ryden was laughing uproariously, offering no help at all.

Once again Markl realized what he had done and snatched back his hand, which unfortunately caused him to tumble right back onto Hedera. Poor Markl was absolutely purple in hue by this time.

"I'm sorry," He squeaked faintly.

"No need to apologize, Markl," Hedera smiled at him coyly, leaning towards him in a manner that displayed far too much of what his hand had been on a moment before.

"Ow! Nalir, stop kicking!" Trissa yelped, not even noticing Markl's hand as she viciously elbowed Elder Tirut's apprentice in the ribs.

The vain emerald-eyed boy let out a great wosh of air and ceased to struggled, which allowed Ryden to finally wiggle out from under them. The tall brown apprentice, who was beginning to fill out to match some of his height, plucked Markl off of the top of the pile as though he weighed nothing. Hedera let out a disappointed sigh and shot and annoyed glance at her reedy comrade as Trissa pulled her off of Nalir, who was still gasping. The sallow horsy faced turned her full attention to the Wallmaker's apprentice, ignoring the blonde girl's pretty pout as the words spilling from her lips in an endless tumble.

"Markl! It is so good to see you we were so worried about you we had no idea where you went after the shield fell it's been absolutely mad around here what with Lord Barimus being injured the Council is doing all kinds of stupid things," She paused to take in a deep breath then continued, "It was amazing what you did in the shield room, how did you learn such powerful magic?"

"He _is_ the Wallmaker's apprentice," Ryden managed to insert into the torrent issuing from the dark haired girl. The dun colored apprentice reached down a hand to Nalir, who glowered at him darkly and ignored his offer. The red-haired man stumbled gracelessly to his feet and irritably straightened his hair and robes, cheeks bright with humiliation. Crossing his arms, the boy from Marda turned his back on his friends haughtily. But his reedy compatriot wasn't going to let him sulk.

"I told you this wasn't the best place to scry," Ryden grinned good-naturedly as he stooped to pick up the crystal bowl and held it out to his green-eyed friend. The red haired young man gave a start and snatched it out of his hands with a dark scowl.

"And _I_ told _you_ that most chambers have scry-wards, the hallways the only place I can word unhampered." The black clad apprentice spat venomously, turning his back one more to the group.

"Honestly, it wasn't me," Markl replied lamely, embarrassed and made very nervous by the bright-eyed attention both girls were giving him, "Suliman's staff is capable of far more magic than what I can do."

"You're so modest; how very darling!" Hedera giggled breathlessly, leaning very close to him again with a look that made him want to run away very quickly.

"You mean that stick you were carrying was Suliman's staff?" Nalir suddenly spun around and burst into the conversation incredulously, his face suddenly white with shock, "Impossible! I don't believe you!"

The russet-haired boy was so stunned by Nalir's furious denial he was quite at a loss for what to say. He didn't understand why the red haired apprentice was so upset.

"Oh, come off it Nalir. There's no need to be snooty!" Trissa snapped with a scowl.

"I have to go," Markl spoke up suddenly in a weak voice, his face stricken as he remember all in a rush why he had come to the palace. Pushing forward he tried to slip past the girls, but they grabbed a hold of him as he tried to pass.

"Don't let him get to you, Markl. We want you to stay and so does Nalir. You should hear him talk about you," Trissa replied as she tugged him backwards.

"I most certainly do not!" The red-haired young man screeched in a rage, but the teal garbed young witch ignored his incredulous dissent.

"Come have some mead with us? Ryden snuck some from the kitchen this morning," Hedera almost purred as she clung to his other arm. Ryden laughed again at the sheer panic that showed on the face of the Wallmaker's apprentice. Suddenly Nalir pushed past them, and the dun colored tall boy reached after him.

"Oh, don't be a spoil sport, Nally!"

But the red-haired apprentice stopped just beyond his friends, and threw up a hand that silenced the reedy young man. Standing rigid as if he were intently listening to something in the distance, Nalir spoke.

"I told you not to call me that... Can you smell that, Ryden?"

His rapt attention and guarded behavior sent all the young witches and wizards on guard. Recent events had taught them all the merit of being on guard. Suddenly the girls clung harder to Markl and they all sniffed the air. The reek of dark magic suddenly clotted the air, making it thick as though filled with smoke.

"Gah, what is that smell?" Ryden gagged as he pressed the back of his hand to his mouth.

"Magic…" Nalir gritted between his teeth. The otherwind fluttered about his robes as the red-haired boy clenched his fists, making ready for anything as the smell intensified. Suddenly, Theresa whisked around the corner as briskly as Markl had, coming nose to nose with her arch-nemesis.

"YOU!" They both screeched at one another, although the green-eyed boy went white with terror and fled behind Ryden.

"What are you so afraid of, Nally? She's just a common girl!" The tall sorcerer laughed at his white faced companion.

"Theresa!" Markl cried in surprise, struggling to free himself from the girls. His heart skipping a beat as the curly haired young girl's face lit up when she turned her jade eyes to him.

"Markl!" She sang his name exultantly; although the look faded in the same way that a sunbeam can penetrate for a momentthe thickest of storm clouds. Indeed, her face darkened and went livid with fury as she caught sight of the two girls clinging to the apprentice. Her face hardened in the same way it had when she caught him looking at Cyanine.

"Do you know her, Markl?" Hedera demanded, jealously plain in her voice.

"She reeks," Trissa sneered with a nasty grin, "And she has twigs in her hair."

"I most certainly do not!" The freckle-faced girl went white with fury. Indeed she did, on both accounts, not that the herbalist's apprentice could tell. She was non-magical and could not sense the thick black magic that issued from the velvet wrapped object in her hands. Tossing her coppery hair, she pushed past the apprentices and continued down the hallway.

"Theresa!" The russet-haired boy called after his aunt's student in dismay, managing to extricate himself from the blonde and her brunette friend to go chasing after her.

"Don't leave, Markl! She's just a common girl!" One called after him, although the golden-eyed boy ignored whoever had spoken. His thoughts were only of Theresa at that moment.

"Theresa! Theresa, wait!" Howl's eldest son spoke anxiously as he managed to catch up with her long strides.

"I'm just a _common_ girl, Markl. Why should a wizard want me to wait for him?" She snapped angrily, snatching her elbow away from his touch as she careened through the empty hallways. It was very late and there weren't any people about in this section of the palace.

"Please, Theresa!"

"No!" She rounded on him all of a sudden, green eyes bright with fury; the lanky young man almost fell over again as he tried not to knock her over, "I haven't seen you for three day! I was worried sick about you after you left the shield room! Did you send me a letter or a note or anything! No! I had to send one back with Master Howl and even then I didn't get a reply! And here I find you in the capital, in the middle of the night, nattering around with _him_ and his gaggle of friends?"

There were tears in her eyes and it nearly broke Markl's heart to know he had caused them. It was so good to be near her; just seeing the mud on her pants cuffs made him feel like everything in the world was right. Theresa was his best friend in the whole world. He had an inkling of what he had done to upset her, but the young wizard was more worried about the freckle-faced girl and the thing she held in her hands.

"Theresa!" He gently grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to look into his eyes. She seemed taken aback by his fierce look and then followed his gaze to the velvet she held in her hands.

"What is it?" He asked in a hushed voice, his face going green as he tried not to retch.

"A silver dagger; Master Barimus asked me to get it for him," her fury suddenly evaporated, transforming to concern as the tall boy went white as a sheet, "What's wrong, Markl? You're shaking?"

"Give it to me, Theresa," he whispered, holding out his trembling hands. Sensing his trepidation, the young girl blanched and stared down at the cloth in her hands as though she clutched a snake. Gingerly, she handed it over to the Wallmaker's apprentice, who stuffed into the magic pouch he always wore at his waist. Suddenly the smell began to thin and the russet haired boy let out a great sigh of relief. Martha was safe now.

"Markl?" The herbalist's apprentice's small voice drew him out of his desperate thoughts.

Gone from it was all the anger and jealousy with which it had been previously saturated. Right now his knees were very weak and he very much wanted to hug the girl until she squeaked. Lifting his gaze, again he was seized by the odd compulsion to count her freckles. However, with a stab of disappointment, he noticed she wasn't looking at him. Instead, she was craning her head around his shoulder to stare curiously back down the hallway from whence they had come.

"Markl, isn't that your sister?"

At her words, Markl turned to regard the slim figure that appeared around a corner in the distance. She was tall, almost as tall as Howl; her long silver hair fell far past her knees, snarling into a dirty matted tangle that fell around her like a cloak. Her feet were bare and the woman swayed as though drunk, although it was more out of a primal need to be in motion rather than from inebriation. It was the same way an animal moved. The girl sniffed and looked back the way it came as though searching for something. From her issued a low guttural growl that thrummed deeply in the silence of the hall. It was sound that no human could make and every hair on the young wizard's body stood on end.

"Deirdre?" Markl whispered in horror.

The creature stood stock still, hearing a human voice, and then turned slowly. It was his sister's visage; there was no doubt in his mind. But her face, the front of her thin dress and the majority of her hair were soaked in bright red blood. It glittered wet and thick against her skin, which looked grey in the dim light. Again she thrummed and her hands, which were dripping with viscous red ochre, coalesced into obsidian claws that looked exactly like the daemon queen's. The menacing sound sharpened as the hideous creature bared needled teeth. The Wallmaker's apprentice realized her eyes were completely black: fathomless like pits of tar. Theresa screamed just as Markl spun on his heels and swept the curly haired girl into his arms, rocketing into the air as he was propelled forward by magic.

The ghastly wail that followed them turned his blood to ice and the young wizard knew that the daemon was not far behind them.


	8. Chapter 8: Bargain

**The Daemon Wars: Part IV of the Wallmaker Saga**

**Chapter 8: Bargain**

Howl stared at the man who held his daughter's hand, and realized for once in his life he was not the tallest in the room.

Nor the handsomest…

The Wallmaker tried to tell himself that the incredulous anger he felt was over the fact that this stranger was holding _his_ daughter's hand, rather than the fact that he had to look up at the star daemon. The spirit was old, nigh ancient, and somehow felt very familiar. Calcifer retreated to the hearth the moment he caught sight of the being from the otherworld, dwindling small and pink, as he regarded the stranger with wide incredulous eyes over a bit of charred wood.

"Papa!" Drie cried happily and flew up the steps, whisking him into her arms and spinning around as though he weighed nothing, before setting him down. The raven-haired man was not used to being handled thus, and his daughter's strength stunned him. He half gaped at her as she drew back, and reached out to the white-haired man who wore a velvet cloak, the color of the indigo veil. Howl also noticed that Sophie had dressed their daughter in one of his best shirts, the back of which was now torn to shreds.

"Papa, this is Nox!"

Again the blue-eyed keeper of the balance was struck by the strangest sense of déjà vu. The man-daemon gently inclined his head with the grace of a summer field in the wind; not to be undone, Howl matched the movement with his own panache.

"I feel as though we have met before, revered ancient," the handsome wizard spoke gregariously. However, the darkly-tanned man turned curious violet eyes towards Deirdre, the question in them quite plain.

"Oh, I forgot, papa. Nox doesn't speak human very well," the silver-haired girl beamed brightly, and turned to her companion, speaking rapidly in a foreign language that shimmered like silver bells in winter. Just the sound of the language of magic, the words of ancients, made Howl's knees weak, and his stomach queasy. The violet-eyed man replied, his voice resonating deeply in hues of copper and gold.

"Nox says he knew your parents, so don't you recognize him? He's the elder star from the otherworld." The tall child-woman announced, as though he were simply the neighbor from next door.

Howl almost missed the kitchen bench as he sat down hard, his eyes wide with the revelation of the star daemon's identity. The white-haired man spoke again after peering at the dumb-struck wizard for a moment, motioning to his eyes. Deirdre listen to him intently and then frowned.

"He says that you have his twin sister's eyes and that all of the Wallmaker's have stayed true to her blood. What's he talking about? Papa? Are you okay, papa?"

The raven-haired man was staring wildly at Nox, his face paler than usual. Was it possible? Was this the elder star? Could this ancient really be the brother of the mother of the magi race? Nox was currently inspecting the weather charm Markl had fashioned for Sophie at mid-winter, with a serene smile, seeming to have drawn within himself as though distant in thought. The man-daemon began humming and swaying in a distracted manner, as he looked about the dark living room, oblivious to the fact that anyone else was there. Worried for her father, the silver-haired half-daemon came over and kneeled at his feet, placing her arms in his lap as she peered up at him.

"Are you mad at me Papa?" She asked again, features twisted with anxious apprehension.

"Mad? Why would I be mad at you, cherub?" Her voice seemed to draw Howl out of his thoughts, and the Wallmaker snatched up one of her braids and tickled her nose with the tip. She giggled for a moment and then became very serious, her blue eyes huge and luminous.

"Because of the soldier," she whispered, her voice dripping with horror and grief as she hid her face in her upturned hands, which were still resting on the sorcerer's knees. Howl could only stare at her, searching madly for the right thing to say.

"You mother and I love you very much, Deirdre. If we seem like we're mad it just means that we're worried about you." In the weighty pause that followed, he smoothed her silver hair and finally mustered the courage to speak again.

"Cherub… The soldier… Did you?"

"NO!" She whispered fiercely, beginning to tremble. Silently, Howl leaned down and wrapped his arms around her, rocking her from side to side.

"Do you believe me?" Her small plea was heart-wrenching.

"Of course I do, little one," again he paused, but was forced by circumstances beyond him to continue. "I'm sorry, Drie, but I have to ask. The wizard who was present said that a daemon ate his comrade. Do you know what happened?"

"You can tell me, Drie," he murmured after the long silence that followed, feeling the tears that were soaking through the fabric of his pants.

"The other ate the man," she finally replied cryptically, clinging to him as if the very act of speaking caused her pain. For some reason her words caused a lump of cold fear to fall into the pit of his stomach, like a lead weight. Howl's skin tingled, and the amulet against his skin burned, as his intuition told him this had something to do with Danna and the daemon she had put in his daughter's soul. This perhaps was a bit of the answer he was seeking, the way to sever the connection between the cold woman and his daughter.

"Deirdre, who is the other?" The Wallmaker asked in as calm a voice as he could manage.

"I can't tell you," she whispered.

"Why?"

"Because if I do, you'll hurt her."

"Why would I hurt her?"

"Because she does bad things."

"Deirdre… is the other Councilor Raia's apprentice?" Howl insisted, his voice sounding much harsher in his ears than he had intended. This was the first time he had attempted to talk to his girl about what had happened in the past. It was probably not the best time or place, but his premonition made him hasty. Hearing the name of the late Councilor, Drie gave a violent start, and raised her face to regard him with wide eyes full of frenzied desperation. Her reaction, and the shift in her tense made the wizard's skin crawl.

"It's not our fault, papa! Mrs. Danna makes us do terrible things. We're not bad; the burned place made us a little crazy."

"Mrs. Danna!" Just hearing the cold woman's name made his blood boil, "Do you know where she is? Can you tell me about her?"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," The silver-haired child-woman whispered, her face falling blank white. But Howl's grip on her shoulders intensified as she tried to pull away.

"Please, Deirdre. I want to help you, but I need to know what happened."

"I said I don't want to talk about this anymore," The silver-haired child-woman repeated in a low voice, refusing to look at her father.

The Wallmaker recoiled in shock. An icy sting of magic bit at his hands, as Deirdre's untrained magic responded to the turmoil of her emotions. Like the fey static charge that builds during a thunderstorm, he could feel the power of her magic. It was vast, endless, and immense; for a moment Howl caught a glimpse of the vast green hills in the otherworld, and could taste the bitter-sweet smell of the endless wind. Howl had never felt anything like it, and the wizard felt infinitesimally small before her. All of a sudden he understood why his wife was afraid of their daughter.

It was then that his Drie looked at him, and the handsome wizard gave a start; her eyes had gone black, dark and irisless as the moonless night sky. At that moment, nothing in the woman before him was his daughter anymore. It was like she had fled her body, becoming lost to another place or purpose, beyond his understanding. And then he sensed the Dark; it coiled through his mind like a serpent, bringing with it the horrible sulfur smell. It issued from Deirdre like she was a doorway to the burned world beyond the Wall. For a second so brief Howl wasn't sure if he actually heard it, his son's twin sister thrummed menacingly, in a sound no human could make.

Then Nox was at her side, his hand on her shoulder, and his violet eyes luminous with power and mystery.

The Wallmaker had a mixed reaction to the man-daemon's reappearance: relief and resentment. The elder star's touch brought Deirdre back from where ever she had gone. His girl blinked, and her eyes went blue as the tall being pulled her to her feet. The silver-haired child-woman cast her eyes about as though she were not sure where she was. The spirit's actions convinced him of the earlier thoughts he had entertained about his daughter. He would not be able to teach her the knowledge she so desperately needed. Sorrow filled him; he had regained his girl only to lose her again? No, he would not let anyone take away his daughter; not even a star. It was childish, but at that moment the wizard felt furious with the man-daemon for proving him right, and for the fact that the daemon could do what he could not. Howl experienced a stab of possessiveness, as the white-haired man let his hand linger on Deirdre's shoulder. As if reading his thoughts, Nox regarded the Wallmaker with a sad smile that did nothing to make the lanky man feel any better.

If anything it made things worse.

"Howl, we've got big trouble!" Calcifer's voice drew the blue-eyed sorcerer from his troubled thoughts. The fire daemon flitted over to the table and settled on the trivet Sophie left there just for him. Heen's claws suddenly scrabbled on the floor, and the fat dog leapt up on the bench next to the Wallmaker. The creature thumped his tail as he regarded the star daemon. Then Suliman's errand dog turned large brown eyes to the sorcerer, as he wheezed and growled like his noises made sense. But the living flame translated for the Witch of the Waste's companion.

"Heen says he remembers Nox, and that he always comes around when things are going to go bad. He says that's why the star daemons showed up when Suliman attacked you and Sophie during the Mardan War. They were trying to protect you. He says the elder star is the reason why Suliman's staff is so powerful; it's how he keeps tabs on the Wallmaker's family.

Howl was stunned by the words of his late teacher's pet; strike that, Heen was no dog, nor was he anyone's "pet." Calcifer turned to regard the dog with a frown, as Heen gave another series of annoyed muffled woofs and growls. The little spark crackled irritably, and showed a bit of tooth as he replied nastily.

"Of course I'm not translating verbatim, you fat fur ball. Did you think I would swear in front of the kid!"

But the living flame gave a chittering pop, and colored a rosy pink, as the elder star turned his amethyst eyes on the fire daemon with a gentle smile. Something passed between them in the blink of an eye, and the little spark spoke again.

"Nox say's he's here because the other Ancients are _really angry_ at the mortals because of the bells and the mirrors, and the unnecessary banishing. They say, things if we don't get the mortals to stop, the Old Ones are going to retaliate."

"How does he know this?" The Wallmaker spoke, and then attempted to swallow only, to find his mouth completely dry.

"The spirit of the Wastes told us so, papa. She threw rocks at us," Deirdre replied, slipping away from Nox to come and sit beside her father. Heen retreated from her immediately, circling under the table to sit on the other side. Howl threw an arm around her shoulder as she leaned into him. The star daemon was staring at them with a cryptic expression in his gentle eyes. The Wallmaker couldn't help but bristle, not liking to feel at a loss in anyone's company.

"I will go into Kingsbury first thing in the morning," The raven-haired man announced to no one in particular. With that, he turned intense cerulean eyes to regard the shaggy dog that sat across from him.

"What do you know about Suliman's sister?" The lanky wizard all but demanded. Heen flinched and shrank under his gaze, before uttering a timid wheeze, turning his eyes to the fire daemon.

"What do you want to know?" Calcifer translated with a roll of his eyes, growing tired of playing the messenger service game.

"Everything," was the Wallmaker's reply.

"I forgot!" The fire daemon suddenly exclaimed as he started up in the air, "Markl went to Kingsbury just now!"

"Sneaking off to see Theresa, no doubt," Howl grinned, remembering the circle magic that had shown on the back of the door.

"No, it was because of the stinky papers he found in the sleeve of your coat."

"He was able to read them!" On his way home the thin sorcerer had glanced at them briefly; the pages were covered with what looked like unintelligible scribbling.

"Yeah and it got him all riled up about something to do with Martha. He took off like a swift, ignoring everything I said. He left the transcription behind; it's up in the workshop."

Howl was about to stand when Deirdre sat bolt upright and started to her feet holding her hand with a stricken expression on her face.

"My hand!" She gasped in pain.

A second later she began screaming uncontrollably, clutching at her face.

xXx

The empty hallways sped past them in a furious blur; although the young wizard took no joy in his flight.

The blood-curdling shrieks had ceased, but the Wallmaker's apprentice knew the creature was right behind them. The stink of its magic was overwhelming in his mind, thick and cloying, making it hard for him to think. But he was not afraid for himself at that moment; his thoughts were only of his friend, the freckle-faced girl that clutched him in an iron grip. This was not the first time Theresa had seen a daemon, but Markl was astounded by how level-headed the freckle-faced girl could be in dire circumstances. Although she had screamed when she first saw the thing, and he could not blame her, for indeed he almost had as well, the herbalist's apprentice did not struggle madly or shriek uncontrollably. Theresa was much smaller than he, but deceptively heavy; that she remained still in his arms made their flight much easier on him. It was difficult to fly fast without wings, and the young man had yet to learn how to sprout feathers like his parents. He was using an enormous amount of his magical stores in order to keep their pace.

Unfortunately the girl had not brought her garden hoe. Nor had he thought to bring Suliman's staff.

"It stopped!" Theresa spoke in a voice high-pitched with fear. Casting a glance over his shoulder, Markl caught sight of the rapidly shrinking blood-drenched figure, standing stock-still in the middle of the hallway. It was reaching its claws towards them almost in a beckoning motion.

He, however, had no intentions of stopping.

"It's doing something!" The herbalist's apprentice cried in trepidation.

Just then spots flew in front of his eyes as he experienced a gut-wrenching sensation of vertigo. It was as though something had reached its hands inside of him, and pulled backwards, ripping from him the otherwind that propelled them forward. Markl issued a truncated shout, and the two of them plummeted to the ground, tumbling a few feet as they skidded to a halt on the rug. The daemon at the end of the hallway gave an echoing cry of triumph, and yet again clutched at the air as though holding something tangible. Again Markl cried out as the creature pulled at some unseen force, and the young sorcerer swiveled on the ground. He was dragged toward the twisted spirit, as though hauled by hundreds of unseen hands.

Theresa shrieked as she caught hold of the russet-haired boy, and pulled with all her might. However her resistance was nothing before the power of the tainted ancient, and she was dragged along with her friend. Seeing its prey within its grasp, the daemon issued a gleeful metallic chuckle, which resonated darkly in the empty corridor. It was all too human a sound. Plunging a free hand into her pocket, as she clung to the boy with her other, the young hedge witch madly wrenched out a handful of dried herbs.

"Markl, fire! FIRE!" The freckle-faced girl shrieked as she shoved the handful of agrimony in the young wizards face.

"My magic is gone!" The young wizard gasped faintly, eyes glazed and his face grey with horror, "Let go, Theresa!"

"No!" The red-head cried hoarsely, tossing the herbs aside as she scrambled to fumble with the pouch at his waist.

There was a tense moment of frozen terror when her hand met only a vast emptiness, inconsistent with the size of the small pocket. Suddenly, her hand closed around the hilt of exactly what she was seeking. The daemon loomed over them, stinking of blood and death, made all the more huge and horrible because of its twisted form and familiar face.

But Theresa ripped the knife out of Markl's pouch stabbing it at the creature. The mad spirit let out a ghastly wail and recoiled, as horror twisted its pale blood-smeared face. It threw up its claws defensively, obviously terrified of the knife. The two of them skidded to a halt, as the daemon backed away, gnashing its teeth in fury in spite of the bright fear that glimmered in its obsidian eyes. The herbalist's apprentice scrambled to her feet and stood defensively in front of the unconscious young wizard. But her stance faltered slightly as she stared at the creature's face; it was the same girl from the shield room.

It was Markl's sister!

"Deirdre?" She exclaimed incredulously.

The spirit gave a violent start at the sound of the name, as though she had been slapped in the face. With a swaying shudder, the daemon seemed to shake from itself the mad rage in which it had been previously immersed. The monstrous features of its gruesome form faded, in the same way that nightmares dissipate with the rising sun. The silver-haired woman blinked rapidly, and her eyes turned blue, the same shade as the Wizard Howl's eyes. Lucidity returned to the strange spirit, and astonishment crossed its features as it regarded its blood soaked arms. The woman then caught sight of the russet-haired boy, as though seeing him for the first time. She cried out in dismay, recognition bright in her cerulean eyes.

"Markl!" The name fell unbidden from her lips.

"You are Deirdre!" Theresa cried in horror.

"No! I am not!" The creature wailed mournfully, as though the name caused her great pain. Clasping her hands over her ears, the woman began shaking violently. She sank to her knees, rocking back and forth like a child, wrapped in the matted silver cloak of her hair.

"Mother? I'm me… I'm me?" She whispered madly in a panic-stricken voice. Theresa was torn between wild aversion and gentle pity; she knew not what to do. The herbalist's apprentice had known Deirdre was not well the moment she saw her for the first time. Martha had told her a little of what happened, and she knew that Markl's sister desperately needed help. The healer in the copper-haired girl issued forth, and she lowered the knife, cautiously reaching out a hand to comfort the woman.

"It's okay… We can help you."

"You can't help me…" The chimera flinched at the girl's touch, and then murmured bitterly, "No one can but her…"

"Theresa!" Martha's frantic voice ripped the girl's attention away from the strange woman. The daemon's face snapped up and transformed immediately, as its black eyes fell upon the herbalist. Sophie's dark-haired sister stood white-faced and gasping for air at the end of the hallway. Towering upwards into its daemon form, the creature screeched and lashed out, catching the curly-haired girl in her moment of distraction. The creature wrenched the blade from Theresa's hands, screeching as the silver burned its flesh. It hurled the girl aside, and she crashed against the wainscoting, crumbling into a heap near Markl.

"GET AWAY FROM MY CHILD!" Martha screamed as she hurled handfuls of glass ampoules at the Dark touched ancient, striding forward with fire in her eyes.

The agrimony tincture shattered against the spirit's arms, pelting her face with the liquid. Bright green fire started up from the places where contact had been made. Fading back to its human form, it crashed into the walls with a hand to its face, wailing and shrieking in pain. However, it still held fast to the burning knife in its grasp. A red circle ripped into life beneath the twisted spirit's feet, as Deiter appeared at Martha's side, a small mirror held in his hand. But Door bellowed in rage, and the reality of the mortal world seemed to flex around her, twisting and bowing outward. The red-garbed wizard cried out in astonishment, as the mirror in his hand cracked and shattered. The banishing circle beneath the daemon's feet let out a great breath of wind, transforming into a portal through which the creature plunged out of sight.

xXx

It was the same dream, but again it was different.

She was standing on the green plains in the otherworld, but this time she was young and full of magic. Someone called her name, and she turned as the Dull Wall reared up out of the ground, looming over her menacingly. She could barely see through the thick darkness of its gloom, but at its foot stood two women. One was old but still regal; although her heart was full of ice and hatred. It was Mrs. Danna, Suliman's sister. The second was just as tall; she was young and beautiful, in spite of the fact that she had long silver hair. The younger turned and regarded her with blue eyes, the same color as Howl's; but she blinked and they went black as pitch.

Deirdre?

The girl looked back to the wall, lifted a single hand to the bricks, and pushed. As though it was a thing of ash and illusion, the Wall crumbled. As the silver woman turned back to regard Sophie, she twisted and became dark and transparent, like a column of indigo water. She held out her arms imploringly, as star children faded into existence, dancing around her in a wavering circle.

_Silver Mother!_ The woman cried soundlessly, as Danna emerged from behind her, looking at the creature with pure hatred. The woman raised her clasped hands over her head, light glinting off of the silver blade. As she plunged the knife down, red fire from the scorched plains rushed forward in a great wave, consuming the figures.

"No!" Sophie gasped as she sat upright, a cold sweat clinging to her. The bed teetered as the support for the bad leg gave out, and the silver-haired witch tumbled onto the floor. Stunned and bewildered by her rude awakening, it took her a moment to understand her husband was missing from bed. A second later she realized someone in the castle was screaming. Scrambling to her feet, the silver-haired mother dashed down the stairs barefoot and in her nightdress, skidding to a halt only to clutch at the banister, as a wind nearly knocked her from her feet.

Chaos reigned in the kitchen.

Drie was screeching at the top of her lungs, a mad keening noise issued from between her fingers. All the lights in the living room were burning like torches, fluttering in a frenzied response to the thick wild magic at loose in the room. Dark shadows crept long and lively up the walls, twisting like living soot stains. Tea cups and plates flew madly around the room, as the floorboards ripped from the ground, snapping and clattering wildly. The castle moaned and creaked so loudly it sounded like it was trying to rip itself apart. Spirits Sophie had never before seen dashed about the ceiling beams, as the otherwind ripped through their home, escaping like a furious gale from the front door, which was wide open to the indigo world of the beyond. Calcifer was a small sickly point of green light in the hearth, hugging a huge log with the thin tendrils of his arms, as though it were his last hope.

Through the madness before her, the silver sorceress saw Howl and a strange man with snow-white hair flanked her daughter. They were rooted rigidly in place by twin nimbuses of blue and violet fire, as though their magic was the only thing preventing them from being hurled against the walls. In perfect unison, they clapped their hands together, before casting their palms outward in a cutting motion. Deirdre ceased screaming as the wind and foreign beings fled in a huge rush out the front door, which slammed shut with a thunderous echo. The silence that followed was shattered, as the objects in the air crashed to the floor, along with the Wallmaker's daughter. But Howl caught her just before she fell.

"Deirdre!" Sophie cried as she rushed forward, just as her husband hefted their thin daughter into his arms. Drie shuddered violently, and opened her eyes only to find the nose of the mother witch an inch from her face.

"Mother!" The child-woman cried, grabbing the relieved woman to her, and Howl laughed as he shifted his arm to accommodate his wife into their embrace.

"There, there, little lamb. I'm here," Sophie managed to say, as her son's twin crushed the air from her lungs, "I'm so sorry I yelled at you!"

"S'okay, mother," Drie smiled tearfully, "Papa told me it means you're worried about me."

"Oh, what a lively castle," Granny witch yawned curiously as she emerged in her sleeping kerchief and dressing gown from behind her curtain, with a trembling Heen in her arms. Nox started forward, staring fiercely at the stairs, and Granny caught sight of him just as Sophie did.

"Oh what a beautiful star!" The faded Witch of the Wastes exclaimed girlishly. Sophie also saw straight through the ancient mortal's guise, to the brilliance beneath.

"Howl, that's the elder star!" She gasped.

"His name is Nox, mommy. He's here to help us," Drie replied in a matter-of-fact tone. But the child-woman stiffened in the Wallmaker's arms, her face twisting with worry at the same moment that Calcifer cast aside his bit of wood, and roared up in the fireplace, coloring a ruddy red in surprise.

"Something just came through a mirror in the workshop!" Exclaimed the fire daemon.

"Door!" Deirdre gasped, and scrambled out of her father's grasp, nearly knocking over the star daemon, as she went flying up the stairs.

xXx

Barimus sat in his chair like a dead-weight, stunned beyond words.

He had hobbled there with the help of Peoter on the heels of King Ferdinand, who had demanded to see that the children were alright. It was little things like the bristle-bearded man's love of kids that convinced the blond wizard that the monarch of Ingary was a good king. They were currently seated in a small waiting room outside of the infirmary, where Martha had whisked both Theresa and Markl. Rather, he was seated and the king was madly pacing the room. The Royal wizard wanted very much to join the emperor's perambulation; unfortunately, he could not.

Barimus hated the sterile little room; it reminded him of the terrible events six years ago. But much to his complete and utter relief, the curly-haired little girl was fine. She had fallen out of more trees than he could count, and long since had learned to bounce. But the freckled-faced girl was in pieces over the Wallmaker's apprentice. Markl's condition also sent his insides into a wild twist of cold-knotted worry. The young russet-haired boy would not wake up, no matter what foul smelling substance the herbalist wafted under his nose. Although, that much he had not told Ferdinand; the handsome wizard knew that the monarch was likely to have declared the extermination of all daemons, if he knew how close to death the two children had come.

According to Deiter, who had been the first wizard on the scene, the daemon had literally ripped Markl's magic reservoirs from his body. Barimus had never encountered anything like this in his entire life as a sorcerer. It was just like what had happened to the Guard named Seran. However, the Wallmaker's apprentice had a much larger gift of magic than the unfortunate lesser mage. Luckily the twisted creature had not drained it all away. Had it done so, it would have tapped into the young man's life force, and caused the boy to age, just as the poor guard and the soldier who touched him. The same daemon was responsible for both incidents. But Markl wasn't cursed; it was like his mind had gone missing from his body.

It was not the first time this had happened.

The red wizard remembered the incident with the crystal ball, before the spire cracked. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do this time. Wherever the young wizard had gone, he was far beyond the blond man's call. But his mind turned back to what Theresa had told him between fits of tears. She had given a name and a face to the creature, one that had been corroborated by the description given by the Guard Seran. Barimus' mind still reeled at the revelation he had luckily been able to keep secret. Was it possible that his brother's daughter was responsible for so many deaths? But the handsome blond man pulled himself from his thoughts, as he the Royal Wizard realized King Ferdinand was staring at him expectantly, waiting for an answer.

The Wallmaker's brother felt powerless in the web of intrigues in which he was tangled.

He had been able to calm the king out of his violent rage over the infiltration of the palace yet again by daemon, by promising to talk to the Wallmaker immediately about restoring the shield. Barimus also managed to convince the king to wait until morning to deploy his troops into the Market Chipping and the wastes. The blond man had already decided grimly that with first light he would go himself to his brother's castle, to discuss the secret he had managed to keep hidden. Howl was going to be furious about the deployment of soldiers in the wastes; that was another fire the red wizard would need to put out. However, the Royal Wizard was able to talk the Emperor into restricting the issuing of banishing mirrors, to only trained Royal Wizard Guards. However, in capitulation he had agreed that bells should be distributed to all soldiers. But Barimus was no longer so wary of the chimes; they had proved themselves useful that evening, by saving two lives he held very dear.

Unfortunately, the conversation had not ended there. Subsequently, several things had fallen into place all at once, most having in one way or another to do with Mardan magi. Apparently the ruler of Ingary was considering accepting the help of the Mardan scryer in the search for the Daemon Queen. However, Merra of Marda's services were not freely given, and the water witch had a very specific price in mind. The king had informed him unceremoniously that the Council had been biting his heels relentlessly since the spire cracked, demanding he command Barimus to choose a successor. Next the barrel-chested man heaved a tired sigh, and asked him point blank if he would be willing to accept Nalir as his heir and apprentice.

At least the emperor had been kind enough to ask his consent before accepting the witch's bargain; but that was poor consolation.

Barimus resisted the urge to scream and break things, as he realized he had been set up by a very shrewd and ambitious witch. He should have known better; Mardans never gave away anything for free. But now he was indebted to Healer Yewin as well, another mark that put him in their debt. It was not that the Royal Wizard did not like the boy; he was a good student, and studied hard. However, it was the young man's disposition that marked him as an ill-suited candidate. Elder Tirut had done his best to tame the young wizard's pride and vanity, but to no avail. The red-haired boy made it very clear through words and actions on numerous occasions, what little regard he had for non-magical citizens. Some of his pranks bordered on cruelty.

In spite of the fact that the young man was top of his class, there was no way Barimus could accept him as an heir. The Council's purpose was to serve the good of _all_ people, non-magical and magical. Too quickly this fact was forgotten in the squabbling of petty magi, over-concerned by titles and rank. Even if the green-eyed young sorcerer had been suitable, the red wizard would have refused, on principle simply because of the back-handed dealings that had brought about this situation. The Lord Councilor liked Prince Justin very much; however, much like Ferdinand let the magi in Ingary do as they pleased, the Mardan sorcerers had a great deal of free reign. Barimus smelled all the familiar characteristics of a coup. Although the expression on his face was carefree, the man tightened his hands into fists, where they rested in his lap. He had fought long and hard for six years to restore the balance to the Council, and he was not about to let it be shattered by the ambitions of the power-hungry.

No, Nalir would not do.

But King Ferdinand was desperate; it was clear in the emperor's pinched features, and the way he twitched his moustache irritable. Barimus could not refuse the ruler's request, knowing it was a solution to two of Ingary's problems, simply because he did not like the boy's character. Furthermore, Ferdinand would dismiss his worries about the intrigues of wizards. He could hear the brisk man's reply already. The monarch would laugh and call him picky, and then accept the bargain with the accession that the red wizard would simply have to drill humility into the boy. Wasn't that the point of an apprenticeship? No, the blond man realized with acute dismay; he would have to be under-handed about this. He had little time to think, as the barrel-chested ruler twitched his moustache again, a sure-fire sign he was growing increasingly impatient.

And so Barimus told a barefaced lie to the king of Ingary.

"I'm sorry, you majesty, but I regret to inform you I have already accepted an heir and apprentice," the blond wizard spoke with smooth contrition, despite the fact that he was very light-headed and his mouth had gone completely dry. There was only once choice he could make; one that he had long since decided upon in his heart, and knew was the right decision in spite of the complications it would cause.

"Really! When did this happen?" Ferdinand was both troubled and surprised.

"Earlier today when the Wizard Howl visited me."

"I was wondering what he was doing in the palace. I'm very cross with him because he did not visit me, and you can tell him so next time you see him. I would very much have liked to thank him for saving the capital. But out with it man, who is your new heir?"

"The Wallmaker's eldest apprentice, Markl Jenkins."

"How splendid!" Ferdinand gushed. "What an excellent decision, the boy is practically a hero after his efforts in the shield room! Plus his connection to the Wallmaker makes him a perfect choice as mediator of the Council. Plus the Wizard Howl already has a son, so I can't see how he'd mind turning over his fosterling to you. Well, now I'll have to see to Merra. No doubt I can still convince her to lend her aid…"

Ferdinand continued to prattle on, but Barimus wasn't listening anymore. With the words he had spoken came a great rush of relief, but one that had faded to cold despair. Howl hated the Council with blind irrationality, and he loved and coveted his family with the same ferocity. The Wallmaker most definitely _would_ mind turning over his eldest son, adopted or not. And then there was poor Markl, who had not been given any say in the matter. And then there was the chilling possibility that Markl may not wake up. Guilt and shame flooded the red wizard, as he realized his lie would force the young sorcerer to make a decision that had the potential to divide their family. The red wizard realized he had acted too hasty, choosing what he wanted most, instead of thinking of the greater consequences.

And the price of his bargain had yet to be paid.

"Well, Barimus, I'm done for this evening," Ferdinand half crowed, thumping the blond man on the shoulder as he strode out of the room, the bell dangling at his hip jostling silently. Indeed, there was now a bell tied to the red leather belt that encircled his waist. "I shall see you in the morning, the troops and I leave at first light!"

As soon as Ferdinand left, Barimus sank his face into his hands.

"My lord, are you alright? Shall I call Lady Martha?" Peoter's voice was at his ear, and the handsome man looked up at the concerned expression on the freckle-faced of one-half of the Captain of the Wizard's Guard. The man had stood stark still and silent behind his chair throughout the entire conversation, knowing full well that Barimus had lied outright to his king. The twin's steadfast loyalty to him brought the royal wizard some cheer, and the blond man managed a weak smile.

"No, I'm fine. Go with our King, Peoter and keep him out of harm's way. Nowhere is safe anymore, even with the bells."

The green-eyed man bowed respectfully, before turning to chase after their monarch. After the man's footsteps had dwindled into nothing, Barimus slumped lower into his chair, again sinking his face into his hands.

"What have I done?" He moaned.


	9. Chapter 9: Dark Fire

**The Daemon Wars: Part IV of the Wallmaker Saga**

**Chapter 9: Dark Fire**

The surface of the water in the bowl rippled for a moment, obscuring an image of the blond man.

The Lord Councilor stood forward under what could only be a heavy weight of sorrow; his face was hidden in his hands. Merra blinked her brilliant viridian eyes, which were pale and distant as she stared into the faintly glowing vessel, which held a mere handful of clean cool water. Her long straight hair fell about her thin face like a curtain of scarlet velvet, which gleamed brightly against the black robes that shrouded her thin form. As a widow, in Mardan custom she was always expected to wear some black; the water witch took the habit to an extreme.

His mother's face looked quite ghost-like above the luminous scrylas she held cupped in her gloved hands. The divining bowl was carved of the largest piece of flawless pale amethyst Nalir had ever seen. It was about the size of half a large melon and was worth a fortune. It had been passed down through his family for generations and as his birthright it and would some day pass to him. Currently, the young man was reduced to using a bowl carved of common quartz crystal. There was a fracture the length of his finger near the bottom and it clouded his sight, preventing him from utilizing the true potential of his gift.

The limitation infuriated him.

But the Royal Wizard's reply to the ruler of Ingary had nearly sent him to pieces. The most of Council favored him as the primary candidate to succeed the red wizard; many magi muttered that the Wallmaker's family was already too strongly entrenched in the positions of power within Ingary. Nalir learned the fact first hand as he scryed in the hallway, eavesdropping on a late night meeting of several key Councilors. But the young wizard was chiefly incensed by Barimus' reply mostly because he knew it was a lie. He himself had listened in on what the Wallmaker and the Lord Councilor were speaking of, and it had nothing to do with picking an heir. Not that he had any right to be angry with the blond man for his mistruth. The Royal Wizard was treading a dangerous line, the very same which Nalir and his mother currently were currently walking. They had both committed concealed acts that bordered on treason. However, unlike her son, the Mardan woman was pledged to her Prince and the Alliance upheld by the Council, not to King of Ingary. When Nalir entered the royal sorcery academy he signed an oath of fealty to King Ferdinand and for all intensive purposes became a citizen of Ingary. However, his mother had not. As foreign representatives Merra held a kind of diplomatic immunity. However, should he be discovered, the consequences for Lord Barimus would be far more severe.

The knowledge they held was a powerful bargaining chip, and one Nalir prayed with all his heart his mother would not play.

Returning his attention to his mother, the pale young wizard knew she was also quite furious, which made him very, very nervous. There was a burn on the witch's neck, which she had gained during a bombing in the Mardan War. It turned a scarlet red whenever she was angry and as her son he had seen it quite often. The scar was part of the reason the woman wore her hair long, to hide the blemish for she entertained a vain streak much like her son's. His mother was not beautiful by the standards of fashion; her face was too thin and she had a long scholar's nose. However, her eyes were shrewd, sharp; robbing from her any softness that might have lightened her features. Not that Merra ever deigned to show gentleness in public; as she often said, one did not need a pretty face to realize ambition.

But the woman also used the mark as a didactic point. She commented frequently when he tried to use it divine her mood that it was important for a magus never to wear emotions on his sleeve. His enemies would exploit any weaknesses he showed without mercy, Merra had informed him. But she was not carved from ice; his mother had come all the way from Marda to save him when the shield threatened to fall. Again Nalir remembered with shame his outburst in front of the Wallmaker. But he carefully shoved that thought into the back of his mind lest he look guilty. Regardless of his mother's obsession with court politics, the mark simply reminded the boy that not even his mother was impervious to the dangers of magic. The thought often filled him with cold terror for secretly the young wizard was terrified of being separated from his mother.

Currently the scar was positively fuchsia.

However, Merra was true to her own advice, and was not one to express her anger outwardly. Her plain face remained impassive as she stared into the bowl. She blinked and the light faded a moment as the image reflected on the surface of the liquid dissolved, evaporating upwards into a light mist of colored points of light. Suddenly the color in her eyes returned before fading once more, the ethereal vapor sank back onto the surface of the water, showing a ward in the palace infirmary. Several figured dressed in green rushed about, although one towered in the midst of the milling chaos like an obelisk of order. That must be lady Martha, which meant Markl was somewhere in the room.

He had been shocked to learn of another series of deaths due to the infiltration of a Dark touched daemon. But nothing could compare to his dismay over hearing that Markl had been one of the mad spirit's victims. He simultaneously liked and hated the young wizard intensely. Nalir secretly wished that they might be friends. Barring that at least they might study together. Perhaps he could be tempted if Trissa and Hedera were in attendance? Personally the pale young man couldn't stand the company of the two witches, who chattered and squabbled mindlessly. He much preferred Ryden's company; the dun colored young sorcerer was greatly skilled at chess. Plus he was quite tall; taller even than Markl. Nalir liked tall people; they were quite useful to one as short as he.

Suddenly, he wished reverently that the young man would wake.

He had gathered a few tidbits of information about what had happened. Apparently the circumstances were much the same as the poor cursed wizards guard Seran. It took every inch of the red-haired boy's self control not to pelt his mother with questions about the health and condition of the Wallmaker's eldest apprentice. Nalir knew his mother well. Merra would deliver a scathing reprimand for showing weakness by concerning himself with the wellbeing of his greatest _rival_. He knew his mother looked upon the Wallmaker's apprentice as an opportunity: if the boy did not wake up then their problems would resolve themselves. In spite of the fact that Merra could regard the situation with cold detachment; Nalir could not.

At times like these Nalir hated his mother and her ambition.

But that was to be expected. He might fear her, but she did not rule him. The red-haired young wizard had his own ideas. He would not be able to scry the room in which the russet-haired boy was being cared for. There were wards on the room into which his mother was seeing, but not that they mattered to the water witch. If he were to attempt such a feat with his scrylas, the water would turn cloudy, but show him nothing. That meant he would have to visit in person and keep that fact secret from his mother. Merra, however, was not impeded by the restrictions of scry wards. If she focused hard enough, the barrier charms would dissolve before her othersight and reveal all. The thin woman could see anything or anyone she had looked upon with her mortal eyes. Sometimes she could see things she had not already seen.

Besides Markl, his mother was one of the few magi he knew with such a gift: farsight was very rare.

It was because of this talent that the Emperor of Ingary had sought out her help after the water witch discreetly let it be known that the Daemon Queen had not been destroyed. It had been part of the plan his mother had constructed to maneuver Nalir into the perfect position to be chosen as the Royal Sorcerer's heir. However, Barimus apparently did not agree he was a suitable candidate. That fact alone made him want to die of humiliation. Did he not possess the makings of great power? Had he not already far surpassed all that his Master elder Tirut had to teach him? Was he not the best in the Royal Sorcery Academy? However, that was not a whole truth. The emerald-eyed young man knew he was not the most advanced apprentice in his age group. The events in the shattered remnants of the shield room had proved that to him.

"The emperor will be looking for you, mother." Nalir spoke carefully.

"Don't interrupt, Nalir. Words are distracting." Merra spoke crisply and once again the image in the amethyst scrylas evaporated only to condense into an image of King Ferdinand.

He could not hear what they were saying; only Merra could. The barrel-chested man was ruddy cheeked and currently up to his nose in a frothy headed pint of beer. Next to him perched an effeminate man with pale blue eyes and curls that matched the pastel gold silk of his clothing. As a child, the young sorcerer thought their sovereign far too yielding to be capable of leading the Mardans. But his gentle appearance and tender inclinations were deceiving. The Golden Sun, as their countrymen called the prince, was well versed in the ways of magic. Although he was not a magi, the man's life had been filled will all kinds of magic.

Justin had been betrayed and cursed by the traitorous Tyrnian Ambassador Varra. But he survived as an enchanted scarecrow, exiled into the Wastes of Ingary as part of a scheme for a coup grand enough for a Mardan to have concocted. The prince's disappearance sparked the Mardan War in which Nalir's father had died. Luckily, the be-spelled prince was discovered by the Wizard Howl' moving castle. It was said that the kiss of the Sorceress of the Silver Flame lifted the spell from Prince Justin and marked the end of the War. Apparently the ordeal had tempered him in ways that did not show on the surface; Nalir sensed there was steel beneath his Prince's silk.

Currently their uncrowned monarch, Prince Justin, delicately sipped honey-colored liquor from a frosted crystal flute. On his other side sat a youthful man with a long red braid who looked quite awkward in the regal clothing in which he literally swam. A small gold circlet slipped askew on his head as he attempted to take a sip from a mug that was the twin to Ingarian ruler's stein. It looked far too big in his hands, just as the crown looked far too big for his head. This must be Walden, the Boy-King of Tyrn. The heraldic colors and the rich fabric the man wore were appropriate for that title. Walden did a poor job of disguising a yawn, so he was travel weary and must have only just arrived. Since these matters concerned all countries in the alliance, together the rulers would ship out to the foothills of the wastes to oversee the search for the last daemons of the Dark.

"It's late, Nalir. You should be asleep." His mother's voice was still frosty, and the tone drew him out of his brooding.

But the young wizard tempted the fates by peering over the thin woman's shoulder. The scrylas showed his fair prince had colored a rosy hue and jumped as his bristled bearded friend slammed down the pewter mug. The jolt caused Walden's crown to fall over his head to hand around his neck and Ferdinand began laughing uproariously. The juxtaposition between the rulers of the Alliance was quite comical.

With a snort of derision Merra leaned back and closed her eyes; instantly the image disappeared. Nalir was privy to many of the water witch's personal sentiments. Secretly she was disgusted by the manner in which King Ferdinand deferred all decisions in matters of magic to the Royal Wizard. It was a weakness in autocratic leadership that left a potential opening for bad decision making and manipulation by those without the Alliances best interests in mind. Barimus was an excellent leader driven by altruistic intentions; however, not all the Councilors were so strong of character. Regardless, with the red, wizard in a place of power there was something to be said about checks and balances. The Lord Councilor persuaded the Ingarian monarch to make several changes to policies made in aftermath of the daemon attacks. Powerfully enchanted objects would be confiscated and examined for the Dark, not destroyed. Eventually they would be returned. Indeed, one of the captains of the Royal Wizard's Guard would no doubt come by to inspect their scrylasses. Additionally, less extreme measures would be taken for questioning magi who had ties to daemon magic.

However, the true reason his mother disliked King Ferdinand was her strong disapproval of having a non-magical monarch in charge of the most powerfully enchanted country in the alliance. This was why she felt so strongly about maintaining the power and authority of the Council. This could only be achieved through sound leadership, to which Barimus was perfectly suited. Merra was convinced that the red wizard was the ideal master to pick up where Elder Tirut had left off. The Royal Wizard would help mold her son into the perfect candidate for this future role as leader of the Council. Unfortunately, the outcome of her tactics had not gone according to plan.

"The king will not see us tonight," the thin woman muttered in bitterly, messaging her temples as her forehead furrowed in pain, a single line forming between her brows.

"Do you have a headache, mother? Shall I fetch you something?" Nalir was instantly ready to run all the way to the healer's wing if necessary. He would have braved even the temper of the muddy-hemmed healer apprenticed to Lady Martha if it meant easing his mother's pain.

"No need. I'm only tired," she replied evenly.

The shadows gathered around them like a thick concealing blanket as the light faded from the gemstone bowl. But with a stab of hot shame, the young wizard knew it was more than weariness. His mother was disappointed. Ever since his father had died, in one way or another, his mother had devoted her entire life to furthering their family's name. This had been his one chance to finally make a contribution to her efforts. It was not his fault, but the green-eyed boy felt like he had failed her in some way. Above all, more than being the better than any other apprentice at magic, more than becoming the Royal Wizard's heir, the black-robed boy wanted the woman's approval. Suddenly, Merra took up the vessel and drank every last drop of the water. It was a diviner's superstition, but a practical one. If the seer imbibed the water that was the medium of the spell, the enchantment would be severed and no one would be able to trace the scryer back to its source.

"Nalir, bring me the pitcher," the woman's eyes were distant and calculating, glittering like hard bits of jade and flint in the shadows that filled their chambers. The young sorcerer did not like cold resolved in her voice one bit.

It normally meant she was about to do something reckless.

"It's very late, mother. Shouldn't you rest?" But he was returning with a fine glass decanter in his hands even as the protest escaped his lips. Merra did not deign to reply; she took the jug and refilled her scrylas. She then settled her elbows into the deep ruts on the cushion that rested on the table over which she leaned.

"Leave. Do not come back unless I send for you."

Her cold dismissal stung him just as much as he was surprised by the cool green circle of protective magic that flickered to life around the water witch.

"What are you doing mother!" His voice sounded a bit shrill in his ears.

"We have not lost yet. If I uphold my end of the bargain then King will be indebted to us. The Council already favors you, and the gratitude of the Ingarian ruler at will give us powerful leverage. So I am going to give Ferdinand the one thing he wants most: the location of the Daemon Queen."

The young wizard stared with wild-eyes at his mother; it had been a long time since he had seen her so determined. But what she was planning to do was horrendously risky. The water witch must have sensed his hesitation, so she with skillfully chosen manipulative words. They were gentle at first, belying the seldom shown tender sentiments she felt for her son. But the cold command with which she finished chased him from the room.

"This is for your sake, Nalir. Now get out!"

xXx

Door sprawled onto the floor as soon as she lifted from the portal.

The knife flew from her fingers and she curled into a tight ball against the pain that racked her body. If felt as though half of her face had been burned off and she could barely close the hand in which she had clutched the blade. Door could not help sobbing into the thick darkness that filled the house. It was still and stuffy, although it was definitely not safe. The daemon hushed as she clearly heard the woman across the room shift in her chair. The green mother's movements were slow and deliberate as though every motion caused her difficulty. There was a soft scrape at the silver knife lifted from the ground.

"You reek of agrimony…" Danna's voice was cold as ice, completely indifferent to the daemons pain. "Still, you did manage to bring back the knife. However…"

The daemon queen's icy thoughts pierced Door's mind in the same way the blade might have cut through her skin. In the moment of silence that followed Door issued a soft mewling cry as the former healer painfully raked through the half-human's thoughts. The silver-haired woman had no strength to keep from the cold mortal any of the secrets in her head. She could feel the rage building in the grey-eyed mortal, and she flinched from it in terror.

"Green mother…" She whimpered pitifully, her agony making her weak.

"You've been keeping secrets, dear little Door." There was no humor in her voice, nor was there any compassion.

"Please… I tried." The half-human gasped, talking made her face hurt horribly.

"No… Not nearly hard enough I'm afraid," Dana spoke quickly after that, her cruel words punctuated by the piercing jabs of her mind. "Do you really think you're human? No one can love a daemon you little fool. Do you really think that your so called sister will still want you when she finds out how many mortals you've killed and eaten?"

"Stop it!" Door wailed, but the woman continued, driven by the Darkness that lodged itself in the emptiness within her chest.

"And what about your precious silver mother? What do you think she would think of the fact that you've probably killed her son? You have nothing, Door! No family, no one to care for you except me. You're evil and stained with blood. Admit it! You enjoy killing and you always will!"

"I hate you! I hate you!" The half-daemon hissed.

"Not as much as I hate you!" Danna thundered back.

The chimera summoned a portal to escape the woman's words. But that was exactly what Suliman's sister wanted. She knew where Door would go in such a state of distress; she would seek out her other half, the Wallmaker's daughter. The grey-eyed woman would follow along, wearing her daemon's skin.

And where the daughter was, she would find the son.

Simultaneously as the cold unnerving wind erupted into the room from the realm beyond the mortal veil, Danna reached out her hands to catch hold of the cord that joined them. Earin felt her mind peel away from herself and she rushed forward in the shadow of the fleeing chimera. In the disarticulated moment of separation the cold woman reflected on how was weak and broken her human body was. Without her enslaved spirits, it was no longer suited to fulfilling the purpose for which she had sacrificed everything. It was a liability, holding her back, just as were the thin tendrils of sorrow and guilt that surfaced in her mind. And she would cast both aside when they were no longer necessary.

For a moment she recalled the heavy weight of the silver blade in her hand. It felt like a piece of frozen fire between her fingers. The dagger was a bitter reminder of everything she had forsaken; it marked the beginning of the time of madness where everything had gone wrong. But she shed the memories as a zealous fever flooded her, bringing with it her purpose, the reason that justified everything she had done. The tides of time have a cruel habit of repeating themselves. She knew the doom that awaited them, but she would succeed where her ancestors had failed! She would prevent a repeat of all that had been ruined by the Wallmakers.

So she would hide, waiting for just the right moment.

xXx

Akarshan's roused with a start as a wild burst of wind tore about him and something landed next to him with a heavy thud.

As the something burst into tears, the little boy jerked wide awake, regarding the figure with curious trepidation. He could barely see in the dim light cast by the few flickering flames of candlelight that filled the workshop. Clapping his hands, the flames multiplied magically and flooded the room with light.

"Sister!" Shan exclaimed in horror as the silver haired woman sat bolt upright and turned to regard him in utter surprise.

Half of her face was blotched with dark welts that bled like ink-stains through her smooth white skin. One of her eyes was blue as the afternoon sky, but the other was completely black. She looked like she had fallen into a fire for she was somewhat blackened; there were matching marks on her arms, but these were worse. Beneath the soot and the dirt was a ruddy reddish substance that soaked into her dress, caking her face and clotting her hair. Wasn't Drie wearing pants? But the little boy did not care what his sister looked like or how filthy she was. All that mattered to him was she was in pain. Indeed, his twin was trembling like a leaf as she regarded him with a white blank expression.

"Don't worry, sister! I'll take care of you." He smiled at her and dragged over the sheet to wrap it around his sister's thin shoulders. Next he deposited himself in her lap and began humming softly.

Door was shocked beyond all compare. She had only been treated with such kindness by silver sister. She could feel the kinship between her and the little boy in the same manner she felt the connection between the other and herself. His eyes were blue, the same color as the others, which were identical to hers. It was an amazing thing for it lessened her anguish and pain. Again the intense pressure twisted within her chest, tight and hot, leaving the half-daemon feeling giddy as she eddied in the wave of emotion.

_My brother! _Door exulted silently with sorrow soaked joy as her mind latched onto the fact that she was not alone. Green mother was wrong; she did have a family, both a brother and a sister. She hugged the raven-haired boy closer in her arms.

_Mine… _She rumbled possessively.

Suddenly the little mortal squirmed in her arms and spoke at a great length.

"What was that? Is you're tummy's growling, Drie? Are you hungry? Drie? Ow! You're squishing me… Hey, Drie? Drie are you listening to me?"

But Door wasn't listening to him; she had caught wind of the smell that permeated the entire room as well as the child in her arms. The Wallmaker's presence saturated this place, pressing close around her like a suffocating wave that threatened to drown her in blood-red rage. A fire filled her that robbed her of coherence and the silver-haired half daemon experienced a weak stab of panic. She had begun to understand that this power was fed by the taint that marred her soul. The infection was like a doorway to the scorched place beyond the Wall. Desperately she railed against the darker half of her existence, the daemon who joyfully bathed in the suffering and death of others. But Door was new to herself and her body, and was weak before the will of the Dark.

Akarshan immediately sensed the change in the woman that held him and his face went white with shock and terror as he drew back and stared at her.

"You're not my sister!" He screeched and began to thrash wildly, "Lemmie go!"

But the doppelganger was momentarily saved from her descent once more into the madness of hatred as another daemon approached. The chimera knew her immediately and managed to wrench herself from the oblivion that threatened to flood through her. Just as the other rose to her feet the doorway to the workshop burst open and Deirdre surged into the room. The door slammed after her, barred by the child-woman's magic. The daughter of the Silver Sorceress stopped dead in her tracks as the sheet fell away from Door's shoulders, exposing the blood that soaked her hair and clothes. Drie's face twisted with horror and trepidation as she caught the scent of the sulfur and fire that echoed in the eyes of her other. They stared at one another, rooted in place like the twin scales of a balance on the verge of tipping.

"Sister!" Shan shrieked, shattering their impasse as he recognized his twin immediately. He reached for the flabbergasted young woman in desperation as he fought again the iron grip that held him, "Make her put me down! I don't like her, she scares me!"

"Door…" Drie whispered. Her voice trembled as she once again stared at her red soaked replica, noting with surprise the burns on the other's face. Unconsciously, the silver sorceress' daughter raised a hand to her face, remembering the phantom pains that had seized her not long ago.

"My brother as well!" Door claimed and pleaded simultaneously; casting her eyes from Deirdre to the blue-eyed six-year old.

But the chimera was visibly stung by the little boy's words. Unintentionally, she crushed the raven-haired child in her embrace as though she were terrified he would be taken from her. Akarshan squeaked and coughed as the daemon forced the air from his lungs.

"You're hurting him, Door..." Deirdre cried in angered dismay as she reached towards them, approaching slowly. The burned and blood stained creature gave a start and almost dropped Shan as she realized the boy was going blue in the face. Wild confliction tore at the half-daemon as she slackened her grip; although she visibly softened as Shan began to cry and call for Sophie. But the tender emotions were fleeting as the dark fire gathered once again in the other's eyes.

"You're mine! _Both of you_!" The daemon half snarled covetously, retreating a step as Drie drew close enough to almost touch them.

"Give him to me…" Deirdre asked again, her gentle voice softer now. Again the half-daemon faltered as her grip slackened.

"You're all I have," Door whispered in a thick voice as she stared at the silver-haired child-woman. Abruptly, the fire was gone from her, as was the smell of the Dark; her eyes both blue and endless black trembled with bright sorrow.

Suddenly, as though she regretted the very act of touching the child, she let go of the Wallmaker's youngest son. With a sob, the boy rushed into his twin's outstretched arms just as the door to the workshop splintered under a shockwave of violent magic. The Wizard Howl came striding through the doorway ushering in a tempest of otherwind, which ripped through the room. The Wallmaker was livid, his pale face pinched with fury as the crackling nimbus of indigo light twisted around him. The other took one look at the lanky man and her humanity fled. The flame shadowed nightmare within Door reared up, unleashing a torrent of black sulfur fire which erupted from the chimera like an explosion.

_WALLMAKER!_ Door's othervoice roared around them like a thunderclap, threatening to tear the castle in two under the power of her hatred.

The workshop burst into flames and to them the prophecy was lost.

Books, paper, tables and bits of metal melted and turned to ash as the parched harsh wind of the scorched place beyond the Dull Wall invaded the home of the Jenkins family. Deirdre swept Akarshan into her arms, turning her back to the inferno to protect her brother from the blaze that rushed forward to consume them just as their father pushed the flames from them with his magic. The wizard Howl cast his hands before him in a powerful dividing gesture, cleaving the Dark fire in two as strode forward to his children. Catching hold of his daughter, the raven-haired man practically threw Drie towards the doorway of the shop along the narrow wedge of protected space his power created. But the cerulean eyed sorcerer was immediately forced to cast his hands back at the eruption of black fire that pulsed towards them in his distraction.

"Get Shan out!" Howl bellowed over the roaring conflagration. With her terrified little brother in her arms, Deirdre could do nothing but obey.

Gritting his teeth and peering through the searing ash and smoke that clouded his vision and choked his breathing, the wizard regarded the raging Dark that had invaded his home. Fire that moved like black water churned through the triangular room, crashing against the walls of the workshop like great living waves as it lifted lashing tongues to scorch the roof. It whirled like a great vortex, at the center of which stood a tall thin figure obscured by a thick cloak of madness pierced with violent hatred. It was simultaneously a daemon, and yet not. Confused, Howl blinked back his othersight and stared in astonishment with mortal eyes at the twisted features of what could have been his daughter. But she did not wear his mother's sapphire earrings. Furthermore, he had seen his girl leave a moment ago with his son in her arms.

It was terrifying how much the doppelganger looked exactly as his girl. She appeared just as she had when they met on the day he found his wife in the otherworld. But the Wallmaker was horrified as the fire momentarily parted to reveal the chimera. The creature looked as though she had bathed in blood and her eyes were fathomless. The long silver of her hair was a wild tangle of starlight and mottled blotches of midnight bruises marred her face and long white limbs. But just as his daughter was touched by the green hills beyond the indigo veil, so it seemed this creature was imbibed with the burned place beyond the Wall.

The _other_ stood before him.

Howl had not understood until now; the cold revelation came crashing down around him like an avalanche of snow. Even through the foul contaminated magic of the Dark that flooded his senses with its thick nauseating stench, he could sense the thin tendrils of his daughter's presence.

The furry raged against the rudimentary power with which he held the inferno at bay, nearly knocking the lanky man from his feet. Straining again the force, Howl could feel the wood beneath his feet warp and protest as he fought back. But with his children out of harm's way, the Wallmaker was free to unleash the full ferocity of his magic.

"Calcifer!" He shouted over the snarling flames that threatened to destroy their home.

All at once his best friend was with him, a point of twisting ruby light against the Darkness that clotted the room like a disease. With the ease of slipping into one of his great sleeved coats, the two merged in both mind and magic. A geyser of shimmering magnesium light erupted around the joined wizard-daemon, shattering the sinister inferno. As Howl clapped his hands together, a thunderous sound like a gigantic bell resonated through the room. But suddenly the sorcerer cast his palms apart as though the very act could hew the ocean in half. An enormous circle of sapphire star fire burst into life beneath the half-daemon. Immediately the Dark beyond its boarders crumbled into ash as its link to the other was severed, leaving behind the smoldering remnants of the workshop.

The daemon-wizard's action seemed to rouse the doppelganger, which screeched and thrashed, casting twisting torrents of the black water-fire at the obstruction that now contained it. But the circle slowly began constricting in spite of the furious assault being waged from within. Suddenly the creature cast aside its fire and clawed at the air, raking its talons towards itself in a perplexing beckoning motion. The circle beneath its feet pulsed and let out a great breath as though it were a living thing. Calcifer's surprise twisted through Howl's mind like a streak of bright yellow sparks as they both clearly saw the Dull Wall with their othersenses. Somehow the half-daemon summoned a connection to the ravenous charcoal bricked barrier in order to drain the magic that trapped her.

A horrific sensation seized Howl; it felt like his power had turned to sand in his hands, which was slowly being snatched away in the wind of the otherworld. Suddenly the black blotches on her face and hands disappeared, leaving her whole save for the darkness in her eyes. Just then the edge of the circle flickered just as the other stuck out towards them, closing its claws around something unseen.

The Wallmaker gasped as it felt like someone had reached inside of his chest with cold talons made of ice.

Just as soon as Howl had gone tearing upstairs after their daughter, so too had Sophie followed.

But the brown-eyed mother witch stopped dead in her tracks as she caught sight of the doorways to her son's rooms. Her intuition screamed in her mind and she tore open both doors only to find their room's empty.

"Markl? Akarshan?" The mother screamed wildly, cold terror knotting in her chest as she turned to run after her husband.

She tore blindly down the magic hallway at the top of the stairs. The ground blurred beneath her feet as she lifted into the air, literally flying to the top of the long winding staircase that let to the workshop. The witch felt faint as she caught sight of the door, which looked as though it had been smashed through. But just as her bare feet met the wood floor of the upstairs landing, an explosion of fire hammered against an unseen force in the portal. Casting her arms up as a gust of searing air pushed past, the brown-eyed woman realized the flames had not touched her. Peering over her hands, Sophie saw that the flames were held back by the charms Howl had placed on the workshop to keep magical accidents from destroying the castle. But the charms did not hold back the horrific stench of the Dark that turned the witch's knees to water.

"Howl?" She screamed over the roar of the flames and was about to rush into the inferno when Deirdre came barreling through the portal with a sobbing Akarshan in her arms.

"Mommy!" The little boy screamed and half leapt into her mother's arms. The silver-haired witch crushed him into her arms, kissing his tear-streaked face before grabbing the back of her daughter's pants to haul her backwards as the child-woman attempted to return to the workshop.

"Get back here, Drie!" Sophie shouted.

"Mommy, mommy, mommy!" Shan wailed inconsolably, as he slipped from the small woman's grasp and was forced to stand. Howl's youngest son clung to his mother's skirts.

"What's going on, dearies?" Granny witch shouted up the steps.

"Let me go!" Drie shrieked wildly, dragging her mother and brother after her, "He's going to hurt Door!"

"Who!" The silver sorceress half screamed in exasperation as she managed to hold onto both her daughter and son.

"LET ME GO!" Drie thundered, rounding on her mother with eyes dark as night. The change was instantaneous, and all of a sudden it was not just from the workshop that the smell of the Dark issued. The silver sorceress recoiled in horror in the close quarters, loosing her balance as she realized she perched on the edge of the top step.

"Oh, dear!" Granny witch gushed as a great wind rushed up the stairs behind Sophie. Nox appeared behind her. The star daemon gracefully ushered the witch forward, saving her from a fall as he reached out a single finger and touched Deirdre's forehead. The girl gave a violent start and her eyes went blue as she blinked before collapsing forward fast asleep.

"Drie!" Sophie gasped. But the star daemon caught her effortlessly with one arm as he turned and smiled peacefully at the silver sorceress.

"Look, mommy, a star!" Shan sniffled in awe as he stared up at the tall stranger.

"Help him!" The silver sorceress pointed wildly at the inferno beyond, but Nox simply looked at her as though nothing were wrong.

Suddenly, the snow-haired man held out Suliman's staff to Sophie, the piece of twisted wood magically materialized in his grasp. As she caught it up, Nox held out his free hand to Akarshan, who took it without fear. The star daemon turned to lead the little boy downstairs, carrying his sister. Then he paused to look directly at Sophie. Something in his posture indicated that her children were his only priority at that moment. He was here to help, the look spoke clearly in her mind, but as though he were bound by some other pledge, it was apparent he would only do so much. The star daemon's violet eyes were beyond luminous at that moment, full of swirling mysteries he had no intention of sharing. But then he shifted his gaze, directed her attention towards the doorway.

And then he retreated down the stairs, leaving the brown-eyed witch alone before the hellish flames of the Dark.


	10. Chapter 10: Secrets

**The Daemon Wars: Part IV of the Wallmaker Saga**

**Chapter 10: Secrets**

At the very moment Door made ready to pull apart the Howl's magic, a shockwave pulsed through the room, severing all connections.

All except one.

With a dizzying sensation of begin ripped apart, Howl and Calcifer separated just as the other lost her link to the Dull Wall. The circle of magic burst into healthy power once more. Falling to one knee, Howl realized Sophie stood at his side, Suliman's staff in her hand. He stared up at her, blinded by the nimbus of silver-white light that burned around her like a halo. Perhaps because she used it so rarely, her magic never ceased to amaze him. She was formidable in spite of the fact she was still wearing her nightdress and her long hair was unbraided and tangled from sleep. But with troubled brown eyes the woman regarded with the half-daemon before her. Reaching out her hand, the sorceress caught the disoriented fire daemon to her, trying to give comfort in spite of herself. The silver sorceress wore an expression of such intense grief that he knew immediately that she understood more than words could convey.

Wordlessly, the Wallmaker stood and slipped his hand over Sophie's where it rested on his later master's staff. Together they struck the ground with the butt of the twisted piece of wood and an enormous wave of pressure crashed through the burned chamber. The Dark trapped within the circle suddenly whirled around the doppelganger, dissolving into a thick clot of shadows that gathered at the blood-smeared woman's feet. Again they hammered the ground with the stick and this time the entire castle shook. It was as through the madness retreated through a door in the half-daemon, sent back to the burned place beyond the Dull Wall. And with it went all of the daemon's power, taken from the lives she had consumed. But in that moment both Howl and Sophie realized the door was broken and it could not be locked; the Dark would be able to find its way back through once more. It had been banished, but only for the moment.

Now in the center of the circle stood only a thin and lanky woman with matted silver hair; but anyone with the othersight could see she was half daemon. As the last dregs of the tainted magic fled her, the woman's legs failed and she gracelessly flopped to her knees like a child. Trembling violently, the woman cast wild cerulean eyes about the smoldering room before fixing them with such longing intensity on the silver sorceress that the look could have melted stone.

"Silver mother!" The creature whispered with a heart-wrenching sob, reaching towards her weakly with arms sticky and stained with blood. But the containment circle shocked her violently as the daemon tried to reach beyond the barrier.

"Banish it, before it brings back the Dark!" Calcifer crackled wildly, starting up from Sophie's other hand. The creature hissed like an animal as it caught sight of the lanky wizard, cowering as she narrowed blue eyes at the raven-haired man.

"We can't Cal. If we do then Deirdre will be sent with her," the Wallmaker replied in an exhausted voice. The handsome man stared openly at the trapped half-daemon, deeply disturbed by the blood on its body and the color of its eyes.

"Can we help her?" The mother witch asked softly, giving a start as the daemon once again turned pleading eyes to her.

"Sophie, will you check on the children?" Howl asked, evading her question, shamelessly attempting to maneuver her out of the room. The Wallmaker's wife seemed reluctant to leave, regarding her husband with a troubled expression full of questions and conflict. But the sapphire eyed man smiled at her with an expression of such confidence that she finally relented. Seizing the lanky sorcerer for a moment to plant a kiss on his lips, Sophie fled from the room, pausing for only a moment as the chimera called after her.

"Silver mother!" The creature shrieked again, but fell silent and guarded as the wizard Howl drew close, regarding his daughter's doppelganger with an impassive expression. The daemon attempted to summon a portal, but the silver sorceress had temporarily removed from her all magic. The creature was very nearly mortal in that moment. Realizing her predicament, the silver-haired half-human crumbled into a huddled ball, shrinking as far from the luminous blue line that encircled her.

xXx

As soon as his wife left the room, Howl wilted visibly and turned away from the daemon.

However, there was a furious fire in his eyes that sent his best friend to a distance as the master of the castle looked around the ruins of his workshop. Calcifer flitted higher; casting a warm mellow light through the gloom that filled the dark room, save for the cold glow of the binding circle. Sustained by the fire daemon's magic, the windows in the shop remained intact and the night outside passed swiftly by as the moon sank lower on the western horizon. It was very late, or very early depending on your perspective. Wearily, the aggravated wizard slowly wandered about the burned room, digging through piles of charcoal in hopes of salvaging his work. But the papers fell to ash in his hands, just as the many tables holding his projects had crumbled. Pools of melted glass and metal clung to the charred floorboards, where once they had been beakers, boxes, and vials. He paused in front of a particularly large pile of cooling molten glass; this was once the mirror.

"The papers Markl wrote on were right here," Calcifer spoke solemnly.

But the Wallmaker was not completely disheartened and he silently praised his eldest son's curiosity. His apprentice had read the papers before they were destroyed. Perhaps he could transcribe the words? But still, that was little solace. Prying up a piece of metal with some difficulty, the raven-haired man hurled it aside with an angry growl as he discovered it was unsalvageable. Kicking about in the wreckage that filled his room, the man would stoop every so often he fished a gleaming jewel or bit of rock from the rubble. Suddenly, the thin sorcerer straightened visibly and strode over to the back wall, where a series of shelves held rows of blackened rectangles. Gently, as though he were afraid a mere touch would destroy the objects; Howl dusted the soot from the objects, which were miraculously unscathed save for a coating of charcoal. This time he sagged against the shelves out of relief.

Much like his bathtub, the raven-haired wizard could not live without his books.

"At least the books are okay. Good thing you put the fire charms on them." The living flame piped optimistically.

Without a reply, the Wallmaker pulled many frilly handkerchiefs from his endless pockets. He began lovingly dusting off the many volumes, which wiped clean as much from magic as from care. Very quickly the hankies were destroyed and the cerulean-eyed man was far filthier than the books that lined the shelves. But the work seemed to calm him. As thin clouds of mist and spray whisked by in the indigo twilight outside, the rage in the lanky man dissipated, leaving only patient resolve.

"What is your name?" The Wallmaker asked the daemon all of a sudden, but not unkindly. Calcifer let out an irritated snort and look like he was about to speak when Howl silenced him with a glance.

"What do you care, Wallmaker…" Door snarled in a voice twisted with hate from beneath the cloak of her tangled filthy hair. Howl approached again, standing above the captive in the circle. Calcifer lazily circled above the wizards head, doing his best impression of a fire daemon's version of pacing. The long silence that followed grew heavy and tenuous and the creature shrank from the intense gaze with which the handsome man pinned her in place. But there was no where to go.

"What are you waiting for? Kill me!" The silver-haired doppelganger sobbed with such bitter remorse that the blue-eyed wizard almost believed that the being wanted to die.

It was not at all a reply the thin sorcerer had expected from a daemon touched by the Dark. Tainted spirits were often embodiments of the harshest emotions; driven mad by the evil beyond the Wall, they existed only to cause more destruction without sorrow or regret. Much like their kindred, the touched did not feel, they were being of pure mindless action. As such they were dangerous because they could not be reached or swayed; the ancients from beyond the Wall were outside reason and could not be saved. To preserve the balance they had to be destroyed.

But this touched spirit was different; which gave Howl both hope and foreboding.

"Are you so eager to leave this world?" The keeper of the balance replied not without pity.

"No…" She whispered in anguish, "But I have failed and betrayed. If you do not, then green mother certainly will…"

"Who is green mother?"

Again his intuition burned like a wild may-fly in his mind. Here was the connection once more. But the silence returned, like a wave crashing upon the sands; but just as the sea is indecisive, and in that moment so was the chimera.

"My name is Door," She spat out her reply as though it were a vile thing.

Again Howl was forced to pause and reflect on Door's circumstances. She was half-human that much was for sure. Ancients were not concerned with the mortal concept of identity and mortality, nor would they claim a name or any kind of responsibility. But this complicated things significantly. Unlike what he had previously assumed about the other, Door wasn't just a faded copy of his daughter born out of the chaos of wild magic unleashed in the otherworld. The silver-haired woman was a person; a living being with a mind, a heart, and a soul.

Another truth twisted in his mind, filling him with revulsion and aversion. But it was not something Howl could ignore; family was a matter the Wallmaker held to be one of his greatest concerns. His ferocious love of his kin often set him at odds with his other fundamental purpose: to maintain the balance in the otherworld. However, he could feel a connection to the corrupted woman; they shared the kinship of blood. She was indeed Deirdre sister, just as in a way she was his daughter. But he sensed something else in her, it lingered beyond the distant ghost of the Dark that permeated her like the smell of smoke. But even as he reached for it the other recoiled from him.

"I want to help you, Door. But first I need your help."

"I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP! HATE YOU!" Door screeched at the top of her lungs, rising up from beneath her hair like a wild-eyed furry. The creature threw herself at him, her pale hands twisted into the mimic of the claws that would have coalesced had she not been dry of magic. But Calcifer flared like blue-white fire above his friend's head and the barrier crackled to life. With a sizzling sound, the half-human issued a cry as she was flung back to the ground.

"Calcifer, be gentle!" The Wallmaker snapped angrily, turning luminous blue eyes to his friend.

"She's trying to kill _you_ and _our_ family, Howl! You'd think you'd be a little more concerned!" The fire daemon growled back showing a great deal of tooth around the curls of smoke that escaped his mouth.

"Everything she feel Deirdre feels too!" The wizard replied curtly and that seemed to sober the living flame, "Besides, she will never trust us if we do not show her kindness."

"_Murderer_!" Door gasped as she struggled weakly to rise inside the blue circle. Her words rooted Howl in place, sending an icy chill down the length of his spine. He knew that voice! It was like another was speaking through the daemon's lips. Suddenly the creature raised her face to scowl threateningly at the Wallmaker.

Her eyes, they were not blue, but cold and grey!

"You killed them, Agyrus. I will never take your help… Murderers! You will be punished, all of you on the Council for what you did. Your Doom is coming! I have seen it!"

At the sound of his late uncle's name, every hair on Howl's body stood on end. Suddenly he understood the other presence he felt earlier, the one that had hid from his prying. Here was the connection he had been looking for, the familiar sensation that filled his heart with simultaneous exultation and foreboding.

"Danna!" Howl shouted as recognition pierced his mind like a shard of ice.

At that very same moment Nox walked calmly into the room, humming softly to himself. The star daemon was sober in spite of his tune, sadly casting his violet eyes around the room. But Earin Danna let out a shriek filled with horror and knowing as soon as she saw him. It was as though she knew the daemon and what his presence meant.

"The fallen star!" The cold woman screeched incredulously through the chimera's lips, her shock turning to fury.

The snow-haired man turned to regard her with a gentle serene smile, oblivious to the seething hatred with which the figure regarded him. Abruptly his song changed, melting into a deep mellow timbre that resonated from all around him as well as from within. With it came the otherworld. The indigo veil seemed to rise up around them like water bubbles from the ground where once it lay hidden beneath the surface of all existence. The fire daemon let out a cry and looped wildly in the air, clasping thing arms where human ears might have been.

"Calcifer!" The wizard shouted in dismay, trying to catch hold of his friend in spite of his own intense discomfort.

But Danna also screamed and heaved herself up, railing against the barrier. Howl was forced to cast out his hands and the circle flared strongly, containing the former Daemon Queen who wore Door like a great cloak of madness. But the piercing song continued and the woman clutched at her chest, from which a twisted cord emerged just beneath her heart. The strand had two parts, a smooth length of sapphire blue and a twisted snarl of charcoal black. At an arms length they separated and coiled about her in opposite directions, and she clutched at them possessively.

"You cannot take her from me without killing them both, star daemon!" The mad one snarled, but Nox did not appear to be concerned.

He opened his mouth and sang a single reverberating note that was visible for a moment like a sunbeam piercing the gloom. It splintered like the shattering of a glacier, but them seemed to move beyond sound. Danna stood stock still, eyes wide with terror. The grey faded from their wide corridors, just as her presence inside of Door was forced to an end. As the star's song faded, the chimera alone was left standing with her hands clutched over her heart and a grieved expression on her face.

"What did you do?" Howl all but shouted at the star daemon as he caught Calcifer in his hands. The violet eyed man turned to regard the Wallmaker with a quizzical expression. The stranger then turned his gaze to the fire daemon as he spoke in the shining gold tone of the language of magic.

"He made Mrs. Danna leave," Calcifer translated blearily.

"But we had her! We could have severed her connection to the girls!" The blue-eyed man raged.

"It's not that simple, Howl," The fire daemon spoke firmly, shaking himself as he rose up from the wizard's hands to regard his friend, "That loony-bin wasn't really here, so there wasn't much we could do. The elder star had to get Danna out of Door before she let the Dark back in."

The Wallmaker again felt at a loss in the darkly tanned man's presence. He was not accustomed to being wrong in matters of magic. Currently, Nox was regarding him with the same sad smile he had earlier, which did nothing to help calm Howl's fury. Had Door not spoken, the wizard surely would have torn up half the floor to throw it at the star daemon.

"Kill me…" The chimera spoke in a small traumatized voice.

Nox rounded on the half-daemon in a fluid motion devoid of the awkward constraints of gravity. For the first time the sorcerer could recall, the star-man showed anger. The metallic multi-level chorus of the stranger's voice tore through the room like the boom of the darkest iron, riding a great avalanche of purple-red vehemence. Howl was forced to clamp his hands over his ears, lest his head split in two. Calcifer turned and fled from the room, a small teal spark of light. But Door instantly roused from her self-pity and recoiled in fear. Immediately the chimera replied in a shrill crystalline song that was saturated with meek compliance. Once their voices ceased, Nox turned to the Wallmaker and spoke in the halting lilt that would characterize all of his mortal speech.

"She…" The daemon gestured gracefully to Door, "Will speak to you now."

With that Nox left the room, humming to himself serenely.

xXx

Mrs. Danna was hurled back into her body so violently the knife she held clutched in her hands flew from her grasp.

Exhausted and on the verge of unconsciousness, the former daemon queen as she attempted to sap energy from the connection between she and her daemon. But the cord that connected them was a bare thread, a transparent ghost of what it had been. She had to be careful not to over tax it, lest it break and cause them both die. She was completely powerless, helpless, and at the mercy of her own mortality. Despair was replaced by seething hatred as she realized somehow the Wallmaker had placed a barrier between them, preventing her from influencing Door.

Again the Darkness in her chest reared up like a great chasm of anguish and had she not been sitting she would have fallen.

Door was so close, the daemon had the boy in its grasp and yet she had failed to act. It would have been so easy to snap the little boy's neck, but she hadn't. WHY! What was it that was holding her back? Danna warred with herself again, confusion mixing like salt in the wound of her tortured mind as fragments memories flooded her. You would think that one without a heart would not be troubled by emotions any longer. But the grey-eyed woman learned the truth of that matter not long after bringing Door to life. Even the heartless could still feel guilt, remorse, and hate.

Was it because of the Star?

Perhaps... Perhaps it was because it was not what the prophecy foretold? She had not realized how close to the Doom they had become. Her chest tightened with terror as ghostly visions of the great looming wave of vermillion hatred crashed over the Wall, flooding their world with sorrow and oblivion. Danna suddenly forgot all thoughts of revenge and retribution, driven by her deeper purpose. She must act quickly, or the mortal world would perish. But the woman was weak, barely able to stand. Now even Door, her connection to the otherworld, was beyond her reach. Was the prophecy wrong? No, she reflected with cold moroseness. She knew only too well how right it was and what came of doubting its words.

Perhaps she had misinterpreted it?

It was so hard to tell now that her sight was gone, ripped from her along with everything she had ever loved. But those thoughts disintegrated as her eyes fell on the silver blade. It glinted brightly in a pool of moonlight on the ground in the distance. Absolute certainty filled her, a faint echo of what she used to experience when she was younger, before she was touched during the time of pain and madness.

"I am right!" She whispered out loud to no one in particular. She had the silver knife: the blade that would end life of the Wallbreaker. That, if anything, proved it.

Fatigue finally claimed her, leaving those satisfied thoughts echoing madly through her mind. When her eyes flew open the sunlight streaming in the windows outside was blindingly bright, weakly she shielded her eyes. Something had roused her, a thin tendril of anxiousness pressed upon her, making it difficult to breathe. Suddenly, she sensed another presence in the room. It was far away, so very far she could barely taste it with the broken remnants of her othersenses.

Someone was looking for her.

Danna remained very still in the dusty room of the cottage, gently probing the mind that roved around her. It was a woman, a powerful seeker; there was no way she could hide from the hunter's magic. Had she been in full form, this infiltration would be no more threatening than had a fly buzzed past her ear. Had she been wearing her cloak of daemons, she could have ripped the witch's mind from her body and shredded it between her claws. But she was mortal now, beyond any such power. Thus, the former healer froze, cold terror creeping with a shiver through her paralyzed limbs. If she moved she would be discovered, if she remained motionless she risked the same.

Outside she heard the gulls crying in the bright blue sky overhead; if she listened carefully she could even hear the distant sigh of the ocean. The moments of lucidity she managed to experience in this place had reminded her of how amazing quietness could be.

She was so very tired and for a moment forgot everything.

The madness had not seized her since she had emerged from the otherworld, carried by Door to this place. Perhaps they could just stay here and forget the world? Door? Where was she? A brief spark of panic fled through Danna as she realized she was alone and even her daemon was gone. The seeker suddenly intensified her search, no doubt catching wind of the broken woman's unease. But with an overwhelming rush of bitterness Danna realized that she could not stay here. The blood of the elderly couple she had ordered the chimera to kill was still spattered on the walls. Some even soaked into the hem of her tattered green dress. She was stained, Earin brooded morosely, and there was no place of rest in this world for one such as her.

Perhaps it was fate that she was about to be discovered. Her legs were not capable of carrying her to where she needed to go. Instead, it appeared that Ingary would be coming to her.

In the distance she saw the silver knife laying on the floor and knew with iron certainty she had to finish what she started. Standing with a great deal of difficulty, Earin Danna shuffled painfully over to the blade and stooped stiffly to pick it up. The moment her fingers closed around the hilt she was discovered. The magus' othersight fixed upon her with ferocious intensity there was no doubt in her mind that the seeker knew exactly who and where she was.

Danna knew it would not be long before there were soldiers at her door.

xXx

Bright sunshine woke Theresa.

"G'morning Lady Martha," the curly haired girl mumbled sleepily, rubbing her red-rimmed eyes.

The dark haired healer went along the eastern side of the room throwing back the thick curtains to let in the sun. The bright light did nothing to help her predicament. The freckle-faced girl felt exactly the same way she had the morning after her teacher's wedding where he had drank too much cider. Not that she had anything to drink last night. Wait… hadn't Martha fixed her a cup of tea? Ah, yes. It tasted of vervain and lavender, a perfect cover for bitter kava root, a lesser cousin of the poppy plant. Not that it matter that her mistress had drugged her; the sleep had been welcomed. Otherwise she would have cried all night.

Theresa felt like her nose was twice as large as it should be and she snuffled miserably. Her mistress suddenly appeared at her elbow and lifted her chin with gentle hands, peering at her with an intense frown and piercing green eyes. It perhaps was not the best way to wake up in the morning, but apprentice didn't mind. The red-haired girl had long since discovered that Martha's concern for her health was the herbalist's way of showing affection.

"Open," The healer commanded and the young apprentice complied by sticking out her tongue with the obligatory 'Ah.' The green-eyed woman seemed satisfied that she was not ill and would most definitely live.

"Crying won't help," was the bitter medicine the pale woman offered.

"But it makes me feel better," Theresa mumbled morosely as she gazed at the dew-covered thistles Martha had brought in that morning.

"The _special_ tea needs more lavender; I still can taste the bitterness of the kava this morning," The young woman added testily, feeling the gentle jib was justified by the dull ache in her head.

Martha, however, did not deign to reply as she went about lighting the traditional rune marked green candles she had set up in the room.

They were in a private quarters in the healer's wing of the palace. It was an extra special chamber because it had a view of the gardens and palace greenhouse. The sky overhead darkened as another pod of airships moved through the sky on patrol. Lord Barimus had left early that morning for Market Chipping on a similar fleet of flying machines with Emperor Ferdinand, Prince Justin, and the Boy-King Walden from Tyrn. She did not recall if the blond wizard had come by this morning or late last night. Her memories after the cup of tea were a little fuzzy. But he must have because there was a bell tied to her belt, the twin of that which hung from her teacher's belt. They were oddly silent when they moved. Martha had only just returned from her rounds of the palace infirmary. She could tell by the greenish tinge in her teacher's face she was working too hard again. The herbalist looked rather red nosed herself; perhaps she needed a cup of tea, the curly haired girl thought crankily.

"Work while you mope," the dark haired woman spoke evenly, placing a large white mortar and pestle on the small table next to her apprentice. A wet woody smell like peeled bark issued from the seeds within as she crushed them half-heartedly. Finally, she gave in to the one thing she had been avoiding since she woke up.

Theresa looked over at Markl where he lay unconscious on a pile of pillows.

He had not moved an inch since he had been brought here after the daemon attacked them. The only thing that indicated he was still alive was the slow hush and sigh of his breathing. The tall russet-haired boy looked lost among the large fluffy pillows and the red-haired girl knew he preferred a single hard cushion. She had stayed in his room at the Wallmaker's flying castle a single night during the daemon assault on the palace. Shamelessly, she had snooped through all of his things quite notoriously and as a result knew a great deal about the Wallmaker's apprentice. For instance, she knew that he loved books, the color green, and had a penchant for wind chimes. She had never once doubted their friendship; there was always the garden hoe to encourage her. No passing acquaintance would have done something like that for her, especially since she was non-magical. But it was different now.

The curly haired girl wondered if the brown-eyed boy had noticed her in the same way she had him.

Even now she wanted to wildly tousle his hair to make it look like the cute little cow lick that stood up at the back of his head. She wanted to put leaves and sticks in his hair so they could match. She wanted to jump barefoot with him in puddles of mud because she knew he wouldn't mind getting dirty. Most of all she wanted to kiss him on the cheek again. More and more frequently she remembered the time in the shield room when it seemed as thought they were all going to die. The curly haired girl dwelled long on the moment she had kissed the russet haired boy's cheek. She would rise out of that particular daydream to find her own cheeks burning. Theresa had even become so desperate that she wrote him a letter, hinting at how much she liked him. The green-eyed girl even scented the paper with lavender oil, one of her favorite smells.

But he had not written her a reply.

With a stab of bitter jealously she remembered how she had come upon him draped by those two girl apprentices from the Royal Sorcery Academy. Perhaps he liked them better? The blonde one certainly was pretty, and a great deal… chestier than she. Perhaps it was because she wasn't magicky? But those thoughts only turned to guilt and sorrow. Markl had saved her from the daemon, but there was nothing she could do to save him. Whatever had happened to him was beyond the healing arts of even her mistress. She had asked Martha if Master Yewin could perhaps be called to look at the sleeping boy. But her mistress' stony glare had disintegrated that suggestion immediately. Apparently Yewin was now on the herbalist's bad list. The young apprentice knew it had something to do with Barimus and the Wizards Council. But the dealings of Magi never made any sense to her.

What if Markl never woke up? Who would explain any of it to her then? Who would go flying with her or climb trees with her? Who would fall into the pond with her?

Not that there was a pond anymore. Their shop had been destroyed in the events leading up to the Kingsbury invasion. Her mistress had given no indication that they would be rebuilding, in spite of the fact that Barimus had mentioned it a few time. She knew that Martha and her husband would take care of her; it was just that Theresa didn't feel like she had a home anymore. She had never had many personal possessions, but the little cottage beneath the willow tree in the quiet corner of Kingsbury had made her so happy.

Would they stay in the palace forever?

The curly-haired girl had her own room close to the gardens, but she really hated the palace. Everyone was so stuffy and stuck up and no one her age wanted to speak to her let alone be friends. The freckle faced girl wanted to be surrounded by wild green things again. To her the palace greenhouse felt stunted and claustrophobic. Everything was uncertain again, like it had been in the Mardan War when she lost all her family to the bombs. That was before she had met Martha. She was ever so grateful for her life with the herbalist, it was just that the world of magic and daemons seemed to have swallowed everything normal and consistent. She loved her mistress more than life itself, but this way of living was not for her. Suddenly Theresa realized she was crying again, her tears dripping down into the powder at the bottom of the great white bowl. Martha came up along side of her and wrapped her arms around the young girl, speaking in a gentle voice that held none of her normal sharpness.

"Don't worry, dear one. Salt is actually good for that mixture. Go ahead and cry."

And so she did, all the while attacking the seeds viciously with the pestle.

xXx

It took Sophie a moment to realize why the room looked to odd; the bed was tilted at a very strange angle.

Apparently she and her children were so exhausted that they did not even wake when the broken leg in the bed gave out again. The previous night, after she had left the workshop, the silver sorceress discovered that the star daemon had replaced the support for the broken leg and deposited Deirdre in her parent's bed. Akarshan was fast asleep next to the child-woman, curled up in the crook of her arm. Nox was nowhere to be seen, but the mother witch was no worried. She trusted the star daemon implicitly in spite of the fact that he followed his own calling. He had saved her life and her daughter's. As far as she was concerned the daemon-man was welcome in her home, no matter how strange he acted. Mildly, she realized both her children were still wearing their shoes and were covered in soot. And so was the bed. Sophie heaved a sigh, full of endless love and exhausted exasperation.

Now she had to do laundry again.

The brown-eyed woman did her best to stay awake waiting for her husband to come to bed. But eventually she fell asleep, in spite of the twisting worry in her heart about the thing in the workshop upstairs. Letting her children sleep as they lay, Sophie dressed quietly and went to the bathroom to wash off some of the soot only to find it occupied. Rose and hyacinth scented steam crept from the cracks above the door. Giving a gentle knock, she received no answer. Half concerned, she entered quickly so as not to let out too much of the sweet-smelling mists.

To her surprise, she found the Wizard Howl, last of the Wallmakers, keeper of the balance, and the most powerful sorcerer in all of Ingary, fast asleep in his bath. Plus, there was still soot on his chin and arms, which hung limply over the lip of the tub, his long fingers touching the ground. Furthermore, from under the washcloth that was draped over his face, which was lolled to one side, her husband was snoring.

Loudly.

Grinning, she quickly scrubbed herself off in the sink and pulled over a stool to sit beside the bathtub. The water was still piping hot and thick with pink frothy bubbles, so he could not have been there long. That meant the had but up far longer than all of them that night, and the tub had become both bath and bed that morning. The silver sorceress toyed with the idea of waking him, half-afraid he would sink lower into the water and drown. But that she doubted, for the man's thin knees were beginning to peek out of the bubbles. He looked so relaxed that she was loath to disturb him.

When she first met Howl she had thought him lazy, but now she knew better. Magic was exhausting, and a magus needed every inch of rest they could steal. However, the children would both need baths and Howl could sleep all day if left to his own devices. So the mother of the castle made a compromise. Lifting the corner of the washcloth, she leaned over and softly kissed the sleeping wizard on the lips, hoping to gently rouse him.

"Mmmmmm… Sophie?" He murmured sleepily and she couldn't help but giggle as she let the wash cloth fall back over his face.

"Good morning, horrible Howl. You fell asleep in your bath."

"Did I?" Suddenly one of his arms snaked around her waist and pulled her towards him, almost causing her to tumble into the tub had she not shot out an arm to catch the other lip.

"Howl!" She protested with hot indignation only to choke on a laugh as she caught sight of the grin and single blue eye that winked at her from under the washcloth. She splashed him playfully with her other hand and he chuckled, releasing her. Sitting up in the tub he yawned loudly and stretched sinuously before ducking his head into the water and snatching up the cloth to scrub his face. Sophie perched on the edge of the sink, watching him flounder among the pink bubbles. However, her mind was elsewhere.

"Enjoying yourself?" The raven-haired man grinned at her, making a great show of scrubbing his shoulder. Sophie frowned at him and playfully kicked the side of the bathtub, sending the water sloshing.

"Madam, it would please me greatly if you would not waste my bubbles!" Howl replied seriously in the loftiest of his brogues. His eyes, however, were still winking merrily.

"Where is Markl?" She asked suddenly, and the thin wizard quickly ducked his head into the water, disappearing under the bubbles for quite some time. The silver haired witch was impressed with how long her husband could hold his breath. She had managed to straighten a whole shelf of vials of some kind of cosmetic by the time he surfaced for air with a great sputtering gasp.

"I'm still here," Sophie spoke mildly in spite of the fact that Howl was currently scrubbing the inside of his ears. She knew perfectly well he could hear her. Nor were his antics doing anything to alleviate the fear for her eldest son that was twisting in her chest.

"He's in Kingsbury, no doubt chasing after Theresa."

She knew instantly he wasn't telling her everything. The cheer in his voice was too convincing. Just as his teasing this morning was too playful since she knew for a fact he had not sleep hardly at all that night. This was no time for jokes. Especially with what had happened and what was probably still upstairs in the shop.

"Howl…" She began anxiously, but he cut her off.

"I'm going into Kingsbury today, Sophie. I'll find Markl and bring him home with me tonight. What's for breakfast?"

Howl evasiveness and refusal to look her in the eye made her more and more worried. Currently he was scrubbing his back vigorously with the long handled bristled brush he always left in the bottom of the tub. It was amazing how quickly people backslid into their old habits. Howl was forever keeping secrets from her; so did the rest of their family for that matter. Always for her own good, so they told her. Sophie had been lenient before, too much so perhaps. But whether out of inexperience or exasperation she wasn't sure. However, it had not been so long that she had forgotten how forced silences had very nearly taken her from this world.

She was not about to backslid herself.

Luckily, Howl was somewhat trapped by his current situation. As such, she went to stand at the foot of the tub and fixed him with a stare he could not evade. The manner in which she deftly placed hands on her hips was as much a warning to the bathing wizard as if she had raised the red flag. The posture was not lost on the raven haired man, who rinsed his hair one last time, madly planning his escape.

"I think I'm done. I bet the cherubs need a bath, so would you hand be a towel?"

With a gusty sigh, Sophie slowly walked forward to the middle of the tub. Suddenly she turned and sat fully clothed right in Howl's lap, splashing water and soap everywhere in the bathroom.

"Sophie!" Howl sputtered, utterly shocked by what his wife had just done. He was well aware of the fact that one of her pet peeves was wearing wet clothing. Crossing her arms, she fixed her husband with her best Martha stare. She didn't even relent when his surprise turned to mirth as she blew out of the corner of her mouth at the bit of soap-suds that clung to her cheek.

"Tell me everything or I'll sit here till we both turn to prunes!" She all but demanded.

The blue-eyed wizard laughed out loud, a sound that made the silver haired woman's heart melt; if not the stony expression she wore on her face. Even that faltered as the thin wizard wrapped his long arms around her, gathered her to his chest as he kissed the top of her head.

"I love the fact that you can still surprise me, Mrs. Witch," He murmured into her now damp hair, doing his best to drip on her as much as possible.

"I'm a blessing and a curse. Don't change the subject." She wriggled uncomfortably,. Sophie did indeed hate being wet while wearing clothing.

Howl told her enough to make her forget even the discomfort of having her dress soak up half the bath. She was quiet a long time, clinging to him long after he had silenced. She remained in the tub even after Howl disentangled himself from her. Drying and dressing quickly, the Wizard roused the brown-eyed witch from her distressed thoughts by draining the tub and dousing her with drying powder. Sophie knew he hadn't told her everything knew, she could tell by the nervous way he smoothed the back of his wet hair. But she had enough on her mind already and trusted he would eventually.

Or would he?


	11. Chapter 11: Betrayal

**The Daemon Wars: Part IV of the Wallmaker Saga**

**Chapter 11: Betrayal**

Barimus always found flying soothing.

There was something about the way the green and brown patch-worked cloth of the countryside went whisking underneath the airship that put his mind at ease. His sharp golden eyes easily picked out the scattered tiny homes and people, who looked like tiny dolls in the distance. Perhaps it was looking at the world from on high that made everything, even his troubles, look small. Even the muffled hum of the gigantic metal craft in which they sliced through the morning sky felt calming. With magic he could make the trip to Market Chipping from the capital in about the same time as could a sky kyak. However, the huge metal airships, powered by steam and locomotive magic, could make the same trip in a quarter of the time.

Normally the Royal Wizard would have preferred feathers.

But he was still weak in both body and mind, barely able to walk long without experiencing excruciating pain. True, his infirmities would mean little in the air, but it was landing that would be the problem. Shifting his gaze to the crisp blue sky, the immense azure firmament arched overhead, dusted with great cotton clouds and crowned by a brilliant white sun. The brisk wind felt good in his hair and the air smell sweet and clean. For the first time in a long while the red wizard no longer felt crushed by his obligations. Leaning further out of the window at which he was seated, the blond man felt alive again.

"I'm surprised your wings aren't itching, Lord Councilor." Dieter suddenly spoke at his elbow.

The twin wizard's own bright emerald eyes fixed on the sky outside.

"Kettle calling the pot black," Barimus quipped back, flashing a wry grin at his friend.

Reluctantly, the tall sorcerer turned his attention away from one of the many large glass paned windows that lined the side the richly furnished office. All manner of overstuffed chairs and large cushy couches were strategically placed about the room, all facing the impressive red-varnished oak desk at the head of the chamber. A sumptuously embroidered tapestry of the Ingarian arms was prominently displayed behind the table, reminding all of who would sit there even in his absence. Gilded lions feet finished the legs of the writing surface, which was strew with half rolled maps and charting equipment in the same manner a child's toys clutter their play area. The papers fluttered lazily in the wind, like multicolored butterflies open and closing their wings to the sun. They seemed harmless enough, but the blond man was no longer sure.

King Ferdinand had shut them up in the office all morning, talking about his plans before leaving on a grand tour of the airship. Due to the fragile condition of his legs, Barimus was not able to accompany them. But he did not mind, it gave him time to think about what the allied monarchs had decided. Groups of belled soldiers led by a mirror armed Wizard Guard would make sweeps of Market Chipping and the surrounding countryside in order to ferret out any remnants of the Dark. Communication would be handled by the Guards, who had also been fitted with medallions that had been enchanted with a message spell. However, the range of the medals was as limited as the bells, thus long distance communiqués would be coordinated by the twins. Like poor dear Cyanine, Peoter and Deiter were capable of mindspeech at any distance, but could only speak to one another. As such, similar hunting parties would be deployed as necessary depending on the direction the tainted spirits moved.

The red wizard could not find any fault in the plan, nor could Prince Justin and King Walden. It sounded like an excellent idea in conversation, but what worried him, was that it did not take into account the human element. Many of the soldiers, including the Wizard Guards, were terrified by recent events in the capital and the village. It was essential that the seeking parties remain observant about their findings. Not ever magical entity or object was touched by the Dark, and Barimus did not want a repeat of the cleansing fires that had robbed Kingsbury of most of its enchanted objects. However, such level headed thinking was not easy to maintain by such young and inexperienced soldiers. Many died in the Daemon Queen's assault on the capital, especially in the ranks of the Wizard's Guard. The new crop was young and barely out of their apprenticeships; as such, was it likely they might overreact and misinterpret the bells. That was the one limitation was that they responded to all magic, not just the tainted kind. The fact that stories spread like wildfire about the cursed guard, the death of one of his comrades, and the madness of the other did not help either. Seran's knowledge of the daemon would be invaluable, albeit painfully given. In spite of his recent ordeal, the prematurely aged magi had accompanied them in a secure but separate room, to prevent any harm from coming to his comrades. The blond sorcerer had not yet met the man, and planned to do so as soon as they landed.

"Shouldn't you be watching over our King?" Barimus asked with playful peevishness, turning his attention back to the curly haired man who was still lovingly gazing at the sky. The twins were as much bird as they were wizard; however, they never seemed to need wings. The two men were the fastest fliers without feathers the Royal Sorcerer had ever met.

"I beg your pardon, my Lord, but I think it is you that could use my company at the moment. Besides, the Kings have a large escort and I really could care less about steam powered pistons and greased gears."

"Martha put you up to this, didn't she?"

"Indeed she did, my Lord," the freckle faced man replied with a grin.

At least he was honest.

Bitterly, Barimus brooded on the fact that he could not say the same for himself. Turning his mind elsewhere, he wistfully recalled his wife's large green eyes and the stubborn set of her jaw. Martha had tried to accompany him early that morning, but the red wizard managed to convince her to stay for Markl's sake. It had been too difficult for the blond man to visit his nephew in the pale grey dawn; just the thought of him lying unconscious and beyond their help nearly sent him to pieces. But he had stood outside the boy's room in his wife's arms as the herbalist towered up around him, giving him strength he so desperately needed. She had promised to help him in any way she could, thus she was with the Wallmaker's apprentice when he could not be there in her place.

Barimus dreaded arriving in Market Chipping because he knew he must visit his brother and speak of many things the Wallmaker would not want to hear. The keeper of the balance lived in a world very different from the reality the Royal Wizard faced every day. But the Wallmaker was the most powerful sorcerer alive because he was forced to exist between the two worlds. Barimus would not have been able to stand the solitary life his brother was compelled to live. He would have gone mad dwelling so close to the Dull Wall and the powerful magic that permeated every inch of the green hills, soaking into the very fabric of his life. As a result of this revelation, the red wizard was no longer jealous of the fact that his brother was capable of things he would never in his entire life be able to reach. But he accepted this because he understood that in all things there was a price.

Howl, however, was not very perceptive when angry.

Barimus was sure that the blue-eyed wizard would not understand why he was forced to do what he had done. The Wallmaker was all feeling and little thought; he often took things personally when they were simply circumstantial. If he was not already, he would be furious with the way King Ferdinand had handled the aftermath of the Daemon Queen's attack on Kingsbury. Furthermore, the moors were steeped in old magic, which was the perfect hiding place for fleeing tainted spirits. However, the Wallmaker would demand that the troops leave the wastes at once because of his personal connection to the wild stretch of uninhabited land. And then there was the issue of the fallen shield, for which Barimus could do nothing. Would Howl be able to repair it? Or would he shirk the burden onto someone else?

The Royal Wizard's greatest talent was for working with people; as a sorcerer his magic was great but nothing compared to his brother's. However, Howl had the infuriating ability to bring out the worst in him. Yesterday's visit was a perfect example of how easy it was for Barimus to loose his temper with his brother. The Wallmaker often made decisions that made no sense; like letting the daemon queen go free. Furthermore, Councilor Raia's prophecy had gone missing and the blond sorcerer had a good idea who might have nicked it.

With a jolt the Royal Sorcerer remembered the truth Howl had divulged to him about the connection between his daughter and the cold former healer. That could explain the recent outbreak of daemon attacks and the monster Theresa and Markl encountered in the palace late last night. But unlike Howl, who would do anything for his family, Barimus did not agree that the bonds of kinship excused everything. Begrudgingly, he often thought Howl forgot that the world went on beyond the walls of his castle and that the consequences of his actions reached far beyond his family. People were dying, and it was the Wallmaker's duty to protect Ingary even from his own family if necessary!

And then there was Markl.

Although he would never in a thousand years admit it, this was the one place where the blond man was truly envious of his brother. The myths of origin marked the magi as a cursed race and the red sorcerer considered sardonically that there was some truth to that story. Witches and wizards were always dying due to the perils of magic and the Dark; as such there were as many orphans as there were childless parents. With bitter remorse the red wizard recalled the child he and his wife had lost six years ago. Partly due to his deep-seated guilt over that loss, he had not yet taken a student in spite of the fact it was an oath of duty he and Martha had sworn when he became the Royal Sorcerer and Lord Councilor. It was not that he was unhappy with what he had; quite the contrary. A wizard's family was often formed by taking on apprentices and now he had a wife and a daughter. Perhaps this is what caused him to speak an untruth so rashly to King Ferdinand. His brother's russet-haired apprentice was everything the blond man could have hoped for in a son. And Barimus was terrified Howl would never forgive him for the lie longing had forced him to tell.

Suddenly Deiter, who had been silently keeping his Lord company, swayed on his feet as he uttered a pained gasp.

"Deiter! What is it?" Barimus exclaimed in surprise, wincing himself as he hastily tried to rise but failed. Reaching out, he grabbed the freckled-faced man's elbow, keeping him from falling. The twin's face was white and his eyes pale; instantly the Lord Councilor knew he was communicating with Peoter, who was all the way back in Kingsbury. The distance made mindspeech painful, because they two men were literally forced to mentally shout at one another.

"The water witch… Merra," The curly haired man gasped, his eyes nearly white, "She found the daemon Queen…"

xXx

Theresa was roused from sleep by the sound of squabbling voices.

"I don't see what the problem is, Nally?"

"I told you not to call me that!" A familiar voice spat angrily.

"My, someone got up on the wrong side of the bed," the smile that was apparent in the words was as visible in her mind as though the person stood right in front of her.

"I don't see the Herbalist anywhere which means she must be somewhere else in the palace so why don't we go in I mean Markl's our friend and we have a right to see him." As a girl spoke somewhere outside her words rushed from beyond the cracked door in the same way water hurries to find lower ground from a height.

"I agree with, Trissa. Stop being such a coward, Nalir. I want to see Markl!"

Theresa immediately recognized the voice of the blonde girl who had been draped over the Wallmaker's apprentice in the hallway last night. With that she realized who must be standing outside the russet-haired boy's room and the revelation shook her wide awake. The curly-haired girl had fallen fast asleep at the foot of her friend's bed. Much to her dismay she realized she had been drooling and there were sheet marks on her cheek. Quickly straightening her appearance as best she could, the freckle faced girl snatched up her garden hoe. Stalked forward with the intent of chasing off anyone that might even consider disturbing the golden-eyed boy, she was brought to a stand-still with her hand on the doorknob.

"How dare you insult me, Hedera! I am not a coward. Have you any idea how rude it is to go barreling into a sick room without so much as knocking? Besides, _she _might be in there."

"Who? You mean the freckled girl with the leaves in her hair from last night that you're afraid of?" Again the words rushed from the other girl. Theresa remembered her now, she was thin and horsy with a sallow complexion further accentuated by the hideous teal velvet she wore.

"I'm not afraid of her! And just for your information I learned from my mother that the _girl_, as you so lightly call her, is Lady Martha's apprentice, the one with the enchanted garden hoe who helped save the Capital. She's the one that held the daemon off until the Herbalist arrived."

"Please!" Hedera sneered incredulously, "Are you telling me that common girl fought off one of the Tainted?"

Theresa decided she had heard enough and yanked open the door, pulling it closed behind her as she briskly existed the room. Standing in front of the door, the freckle-faced girl planted one hand on her hip, holding her hoe in the other as she had seen Sophie wield Suliman's staff. Fixing the startled visitors with her best baleful Martha stare, the herbalist's apprentice straightened and towered upwards.

The group of magi apprentices actually shrank from her. Theresa indulged herself in a moment of smugness as Nalir retreated behind the tall-dun colored boy.

"What do you want?" She intoned ominously, mimicking her mistress' most flinty tone. Hedera was the first to recover, her cheeks flaming brightly to match her silk magenta robes.

"We demand to see Markl!" The little witch spoke as she flipped her curly blond hair haughtily. She planted her hands on her curvy hips in an attempt to match Theresa's posture.

The motion was unsuccessful.

In a perfect mime of her mistress' sternest stance, Theresa first cast her eyes to the plump girl. Slowly, she then turned her face and body so that the full power of her icy gaze built to a piercing crescendo. Indeed, after an embattled moment, the pretty blonde faltered and looked away, fidgeting uncomfortably.

"Don't be such a snob, Hedera," Trissa scolded as she sent a sheepish smile toward the herbalist's apprentice. Her pink robed friend cast a malicious scowl in the sallow girl's direction before turning her nose up with a huff. Ryden laughed at them as Nalir emerged from behind his friend.

"Can we see Markl… please?" The last words that escaped the diminutive red-haired boy were begrudged, but as Theresa turned to glare at him, her fierceness melted slightly. There was a desperate sincerity in his green eyes that was uncomfortably familiar to the young woman. She realized Nalir was actually worried about Markl. Casting her eyes about for a second she understood that they all were.

"He's still unconscious," She replied as evenly as she could, although her voice quavered slightly.

"Is he alright?" Ryden asked with uncharacteristic solemnity. Theresa didn't trust herself to reply and the heavy silence that followed was answer enough for all of them.

"Has Master Yewin been summoned to see him?" Nalir demanded so harshly that the herbalist's apprentice had to restrain herself from whacking him with her garden hoe.

"He has not," Theresa grated between her teeth.

"And why not? He's one of the most skilled healer magi that Marda has to offer. Wasn't he called here just to see Lord Councilor Barimus?"

Nalir was disguising his furiousness very poorly and was speaking to her as though she knew nothing of healing. That fact alone nearly burned the tentative bridge that had begun to be built between her and the magi apprentices. Coloring as red as her hair, Theresa was about to release a tirade on the young wizard when a harried page came tearing around the corner of the hallway. The thin servant nearly expired from fright and weariness as soon as he drew near to the black-robed young man.

"Lady Merra requests her son's presence," he gasped out.

Turning white as a sheet, the green-eyed young man turned on his heel and went tearing off down the hallway.

"What's all that about?" Ryden asked the man cheerfully, and the page gave a start as he had to peer upwards at the young wizard.

"The Water Witch located the Daemon Queen," The man stumbled over the cold woman's name as though the very act of speaking it would summon the creature.

"They found Mrs. Danna! Where?" Theresa demanded, forgetting everything that had previously vexed her.

"Porthaven; the wizard's guard are already on their way," the man managed to say as he wilted visibly.

The healer in the curly-haired girl went into action. She took the servant by the elbow and forced him to sit in a nearby chair. Disappearing back into Markl's room for a moment, she poured a cup of stout tea from the pot on the brazier and carried it out to the man who thanked her profusely. Turning, the herbalist's apprentice found the hallway empty and the door she had left open a crack wide open. Storming into the room, the angry words that gathered turned to nothing as she caught sight of the apprentices. They were gathered at the foot of the Markl's bed, the two girls tucked against Ryden who encircled them with his long arms. Their sniffling was very loud in her ears as she set aside the garden hoe and tried to find something to keep her hands busy lest she begin crying herself.

"Tea?" She spoke half-madly into the silence that filled the room, as it was the only thing she could think to say.

No one answered.

Just then Hedera fled the chamber with her face in her hands and a worried Trissa chased after her. The dun-colored wizard looked over his shoulder at the doorway with a grave expression, his big brown eyes shiny in the mid-day light. The reedy apprentice turned, flashing a half-hearted smile before he left the room, shutting the door behind him.

xXx

Howl left the castle without eating any breakfast.

Again.

Granny witch sat in her chair by the fireplace, nattering away about summer and gossip as the handsome snow-haired man sat on the couch near her. He was patiently listening with gentle humor glinting in his violet eyes, obviously not understanding a word she said. But he held a skein of yarn aloft between his hands and the faded old woman was rolling it into a ball. Every so often the daemon-man would cast a curious look down at the fat furry creature that sat on his feet and Heen would thump his tail apologetically. Sophie's husband had said very little once they had come downstairs, although the irritated glare the wizard shot at Nox was not missed on her. Apparently Howl was not as welcoming as she when it came to the star daemon's presence in their home. Calcifer also seemed ill at ease in the star's presence, and he followed the silver sorceress around the kitchen like a lost puppy as she got breakfast together.

Right before he left, the raven-haired man gently took Sophie by the shoulders and fixed her with such an intense she was startled.

"No one goes into the workshop, including you. Alright?"

Sophie opened her mouth to speak but Howl silenced her by raising one of his hands, bringing hot exasperation into the little woman's cheeks. True she rarely used her gifts, but the silver haired woman was beginning to resent being coddled in the ways of magic. She knew the strength of her power and could feel the ripples of magic in this world and the next. Was she not a witch? But the brown-eyed woman softened as the Wallmaker smiled down at her, his sapphire eyes luminous with the love which showed plainly in his face. Her wizard kissed her so quickly she barely had time to kiss back before he breezed past her and snatched up his great sleeved coat. The sorcerer wiped his hand across the surface of the door. Drowsily at first, a circle appeared. It flickered a deep purple for a moment and Howl frowned before it melted to a brilliant cerulean. Suddenly, he yanked open the door and disappeared into the beyond before she could see where he had gone.

Sophie stared solemnly at the door for a while, absently holding out her hands to Calcifer as he settled in her palms.

The fire daemon was an anxious teal this morning, all eyes as he looked up at his best friend's wife. She knew why the living flame was being so clingy that morning, the witchy woman felt with a wild sprout of fear the distant ice of the premonition that clung to the back of her mind like a long shadow in the light. No doubt Calcifer and Howl felt it too: something was about to happen. Suddenly she realized that Nox was staring at her, his amethyst eyes unnervingly brilliant. She stared back at him with a peevish expression, sick and tired of being ogled portentously by ethereal beings. Why couldn't anyone in this family just talk to one another? But the mother of the castle was distracted from the tirade she planned to unleash on the unsuspecting star when the man-daemon turned humorous eyes towards the ceiling. In the distance there was a muffled splash and a high-pitched shriek.

"I said take a bath, not drown each other!" Sophie called up the stairs in a displeased tone that did not match the smirk on her face. Apparently the water ballet upstairs must have come to a close because silence filtered down from the bathroom. However, with it came a steady dribble of water, which dripped like a migrating stream down the front stairs. The silver haired wilted with a gusty sigh of exasperation.

Now she had to do laundry _and_ mop again.

Rolling up her sleeves and winding her braid about her head, the mother witch made quick work of the river running down the stairs. Soon the sooty sheets were soaking in the kitchen basin as the kettle heated against Calcifer's flames. Oatmeal would have to suffice for breakfast that morning, there had not been enough time yesterday to get to the market. Sophie settled herself next to Nox and attempted to mend the shirt Deirdre had been wearing the previous day. Apparently she had managed to select and shred one of Howl's favorites. Perhaps Martha would be willing to let her borrow a few of her green dresses? Her youngest sister was the tallest in all of her family, taking after her father the strongest.

Suddenly the wet slap of bare feet on the stairs announced the arrival of her youngest son, who skidded to a halt on the landing. Sophie dropped her needle. The boy was dripping wet and naked as a newly hatched chick except for the sapphire necklace she used to wear. Her son never took it off.

With dismay she noticed the growing puddle beneath his feet.

"I'm clean, mother! See?" He crowed triumphantly as if the very fact was the most important news that had ever graced the earth. Throwing out his arms, the little boy spun in place with the shameless flair of a true exhibitionist.

"Akarshan!" Drie called in consternation. Her wet braids dripping as she chased down the stairs after her brother wearing a towel that was the twin to the large cloth she held between her hands like a butterfly net. But Shan was not done parading about the castle and he ran from his sister giggling hysterically as she chased him around the kitchen table.

"Oh, what a naked little boy!" Granny witch exclaimed in surprise. At that Sophie lost her grip and began laughing uncontrollably.

"Hey! HEY?" Calcifer crackled in annoyance from the hearth, sending up thick curls of smoke, "You're mother just mopped, you little monsters!"

Nox was not impervious either to the antics of the children, and his chuckle hummed like the deep dulcet tones of a huge brass bell. The sound made the whole room vibrate.

"Wow! Hi, Mr. Star!" Shan suddenly caught sight of Nox and was distracted from his game long enough for his sister to pounce on him. Smothering the squirming little boy in the thick towel, Drie whisked him up into her arms.

"Gotcha!" The child-woman cried as her laugh ran out like a sweet silver bell.

"Upstairs… Dry… Dressed!" The mother of the castle commanded helplessly as she managed to steal back enough breath from her mirth to speak. Laughing all the way, Drie obeyed and hauled the still wriggling Shan up the stairs.

So abruptly he frightened everyone in the room, Nox stood and walked towards the veranda. The snow-haired man-daemon peered out of the windows with such an intense expression that the silver sorceress sobered instantly.

"Airships!" Calcifer called in abject astonishment. The castle listed slightly as the fire daemon altered the course of their flight just enough to give Sophie a sense of vertigo. The silver witch scrambled past the star daemon into the green garden outside.

The moment she opened the door, a deafening synthetic hum assaulted her senses along with the acrid smell of burning fuel and the static prickle caused by friction from mechanical movement. Sophie gaped at the sky above as the huge metal machines loomed over them, blotting out the sun as they sent a dark shadow over the flying castle. There were three of the huge warships, with fleets of sky kayaks buzzing about the vessels in the way wasps swarm about their hive. The Ingarian arms were emblazoned on the hulls of the ships, which glittered in the light like the casing of a great beetle. They were exactly like the ones she had seen over Market Chipping during the Mardan War. Just the sight of them turned her blood to ice. Leaning dangerously out over the stone balustrade that encircled the backyard, she caught sight of the wastes beneath them. With a stab of panic she realized they were not far from Market Chipping.

What was the Ingarian Army doing here!

"Wow! Look at the airships sister!" Shan's awed and excited voice filtered down to her from one of the balconies that protruded from the castle above.

"GET INSIDE! NOW!" Sophie yelled at them and Deirdre snatched her brother backwards. A door slammed overhead, not that she heard it.

Suddenly one of the air kayaks broke away from the rest, approaching closer and closer. The silver sorceress caught sight of the two scarlet clad figures seated on the contraption. The one that was standing had a head full of copper curls and the seated was a blond.

"Barimus!" Sophie screamed joyfully over the distant roar of the engines.

The insect-like sky perambulator buzzed over her head before settling its blurring wings with a great rattling sigh on the verge, overwhelming the small backyard. But the brown-eyed witch tackled her sister's husband even before he could rise. She was somewhat surprised by the vehemence with which the Lord Councilor returned her embrace. However, this was the first time Sophie had seen him since she had returned from the otherworld. As such, she did her best to crush his ribs.

"Whoa, little sister!" The red wizard coughed, his bright eyes shining with happiness, "Handle me gently, I'm still an invalid!"

"You're legs!" The small woman exclaimed in surprise as she gazed down at her brother-in-laws cast-less shins.

"Yes, yes," The blond man waved off her concern in distraction as she caught sight of one half of the Captains of the Wizards Guard.

"You must be Dieter."

"Peoter, Lady Sophie," The man grinned at her with a sly sparkle in his green eyes. He bowed to her, the movement full of awe and respect inconsistent with the expression on his face.

"Dieter!" Barimus growled in annoyance, struggling to rise with unguarded pain plain on his face. With a frown of concern, Sophie immediately fitted herself under his shoulder as the chastised twin followed suite on the other side. Together they managed to get the Lord Councilor down off of the flying machine.

"I can't stay long, Sophie. I came to see Howl." Barimus' mood shifted instantaneously as he hobbled across the garden.

"He just left for Kingsbury to bring home Markl," Sophie replied apologetically. The twist of cold worry danced cruelly in her chest as the blond wizard looked as though her words had slapped him. The red wizard sagged against them, his eyes closed for a moment as he gritted his teeth.

"Barimus? What is it?" The brown-eyed woman spoke in dismay. All jest evaporated from Dieter's face, leaving behind a stranger who shot her staying glace, that was at once contrite and cautionary.

"I need to sit down," Was the Lord Councilor's lame reply.

Sophie kicked the garden door, which thankfully did not shatter as it burst open. As soon as they stepped inside, the bells hanging from the two men's belts, which had gone completely unnoticed by the witch, suddenly erupted into a clatter of cacophonic clanging.

"Gah! Make it stop!" Calcifer snapped from the hearth, again making the human motion of plugging his earsin spite of the fact that he had none. With a hoarse cry, Heen jumped up and fled from the room.

"Oh, what a horrible noise!" Granny witch exclaimed in mild annoyance, dropping the ball of yarn she was winding as she placed her hands over her ears. Suddenly, the gazes of both visitors were riveted on the darkly tanned man sitting next to the old witch. Nox appeared to be affected by the bells as well, and he winced uncomfortably, in the same way an expert musician is wounded by a sour note. Suddenly, he sat aside the twine and made a cutting motion with his hand.

Abruptly, the bells silenced as the star-man beamed at the room.

At the velvet cloaked man's movement, Dieter surged forward with a small round mirror in one hand and a fist full of yellow green fire in the other.

"Wait!" Sophie cried. The silver haired witch rushed forward in front of the copper haired twin, barring his way as Calcifer shot from the hearth to hover at her shoulder.

"Ah, thank you dearie!" Granny sighed happily as she leaned over and patted the Nox's shoulder. The man smiled happily and picked up the yarn again, oblivious to the tension in the room. Barimus managed to come forward and place a restraining hand on Deiter's shoulder, in spite of the mistrust the showed through his pain. The guard's fire extinguished and the twin fetched a chair for his lord, who barely kept his feet long enough for the seat to arrive. The blond man and his companion continued to stare without apology at the snow-haired stranger.

"This is Nox," Sophie presented the star, feeling her introduction of the brother of the mother of the magi race was rather feeble.

"The elder star," The Lord Councilor spoke in awe. At the word _star_, the man-daemon looked up and flashed an ingenious smile at the two of them. He then looked away and began humming absently.

"Why is he here?" The blond man's question was soaked in trepidation.

"I don't know…" The silver sorceress replied, quite at a loss for what else to say.

"You gonna put that away?" Calcifer crackled nastily at Dieter, his eyes fixed with aversion on the banishing mirror. With a glance at Barimus, who nodded firmly, the green-eyed man stored the mirror back in his pocket and took his place behind his Lord's chair. Finally, everyone settled down. The fire daemon returned to the hearth as Sophie took seat next to Nox, much to the red wizard's consternation.

"I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you're alright, Barimus," The silver sorceress began earnestly.

"And I you," the red wizard responded with a gentle smile, although there was great pain in his golden eyes that had nothing to do with his injury.

"Tell me, what's all that about," she continued in a rush, gesturing out the window, "Why are you here? You said you needed to talk to Howl."

Barimus looked away, casting troubled eyes outside, "A Dark touched daemon was found in the village yesterday, the troops will begin making sweeps of the area until the spirit is found. You know this already because you were there, so I'm told. This morning the daemon queen was apprehended Porthaven. She is currently being transported to the encampment being set up outside of Market Chipping. I have no doubt she will be sentenced upon arrival."

Sophie was floored, her brown eyes flying wide at the truth her brother-in-law just revealed to her. Finally, she found her voice, which croaked as she spoke, "What do you mean sentenced?"

"She will be banished beyond the Dull Wall, to the scorched plains," The red wizard spoke evenly.

"That cannot be!" Sophie half screamed in horror, shooting to her feet as she gave everyone in the room a fright. All except for Nox, who continued to hum to himself and sway gently, like a man who had lost his mind.

"Sophie, I know!" Barimus' fierce voice sliced through the mother's terror and his wild golden eyes held her own. At his words all eyes in the castle were upon him, "I know about your daughter and the daemon; it's why I'm here. The daemon… it is the same one that attacked soldiers in Market Chipping yesterday. Last night it killed four more at the palace last night. It was nowhere to be found when the guards secured the daemon queen this morning. It is essential that we find the daemon lest she return to its master and undo all that we have accomplished."

The silver sorceress was crestfallen. Howl had not told her about the daemon queen, or about the deaths last night, although that explained the blood on the other. With hot fury she considered perhaps he had known and simply refrained from telling her. But Barimus' voice drew her out of her anger, plunging her back into the present where she was adrift in a sea of turmoil.

"Martha and Theresa saw it and they described her in detail; the daemon has long silver hair and blue eyes just like Howl's. I want to help, Sophie. Perhaps I can do something to stall the king long enough to sever the connection between the two before the daemon queen is banished. But to do that I will need to see her."

Standing, the brown-eyed mother began pacing the kitchen wildly. Nox followed her every move with a cryptic expression on his face. Even Granny witch had stopped winding as she watched the Wallmaker's wife with troubled eyes. The Royal Wizard was very clearly becoming impatient, his haggard face pale and his gold eyes bright with desperation. And so he did something unfortunate, even though he was loath to play such an underhanded card.

"She attacked Markl and Theresa last night!" The royal sorcerer blurted out in a distraught rush, "If Martha hadn't been there the daemon would have killed them both!"

"What!" The silver sorceress cried as she spun on her heel to stare blankly at Barimus. But he continued ruthlessly in spite of the shock that showed plainly on his sister-in-law's face.

"Theresa's alright, but Markl still hasn't woken up… Martha says there's nothing we can do for him."

"What do you mean, _he hasn't woken up_?" Calcifer snapped angrily from the hearth as he gave a violent chittering pop, showering the room with ash and sparks.

"I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry, Sophie," Barimus' voice was weak with sorrow, "But she has to be stopped before she hurts someone else!"

Was this another of her husband's secrets? Was this why he had shied from speaking of her eldest son that morning? Had Howl known and kept this truth from her like so many times before? For the first time she could remember, a fracture of doubt crept across the foundation of the trust she held with Howl. How could he keep something so important as their son's wellbeing from her? And if he couldn't tell her this, what else was he keeping from her? The sheer horror of it turned her heart to ice. A vast uncertainty pressed down on her in the absence of her steadfast belief in the Wallmaker, and it felt like her insides were about to shatter.

Sophie felt something she hadn't in a very long time: betrayal.

Looking up, she stared blankly at Barimus. This was one of the horrible moments that every person is confronted with at some point in their life times. A decision must be made between two equally unacceptable choices knowing fully that down each path lies sorrow. What should she do? The creature upstairs was linked to her daughter, if it suffered so too would Deirdre. What if something went wrong? Could she trust the red wizard with the life of her daughter? Thus far the blond man had always been true to his word in spite of the fact that he was no less guilty than Howl for keeping secrets from her. But in this matter at least he had respected her enough to tell her the truth. As far as Sophie was concerned, a secret was just as bad as a lie.

And so the Silver Sorceress decided on the lesser of two evils.

"She's upstairs," Sophie whispered after what seems like ages of tense silence as she sank to a seat on the kitchen bench, "In the workshop…"


	12. Chapter 12: War

**The Daemon Wars: Part IV of the Wallmaker Saga**

**Chapter 12: War**

Howl emerged from the portal into his brother's suite only to find it empty.

The handsome man stood for a moment at the foot of the Royal Sorcerer's bed, confused by the mess in the room that looked as though someone had packed hastily. But his eyes fell upon the small green candle carved with blue runes and he immediately knew where to look next. Turning on his heel, the Wallmaker strode purposefully through the turns and corners of the Ingarian palace until he reached the Healers Wing.

Here the floors were marble, not wood. It had been scoured so completely it was a wonder there weren't ruts in the surface where the cleaners had lingered too long scrubbing in earnest. The walls were painted white and shunned any kind of decoration like wainscoting and pretty paper. The ceilings were higher than normal in the corridor, opening up to the sky through gold ribbed skylights that let in natural light pleasingly. The corridors might have scorned the sumptuous decorations that festooned the rest of the palace, but here the healers celebrated nature's beauty. Plants lived everywhere. Twisting vines with sweet smelling flowers erupted from wall sconces just as ferns waved happily in the gentle breeze that filtered from bay windows that lined the outer wall. The view from these windows overlooked the herb gardens and the great Ingarian green house.

Girl and boy apprentices scurried up and down the hallways, often accompanied by adults in matching uniforms of healer's green. Some cast curious looks in his direction, and a couple of times there was a wild gasp as someone recognized him. However, the Wallmaker flashed about his dazzling smile indiscriminately, making it very apparent through the ease with which he strolled that he belonged here and should not be questioned. Although through his ruse he managed to become lost in the palace for the first time in his life. This turned out to be a boon and in his aimless wandering, the handsome wizard managed to enter into the healer's storage room. Immediately upon entering he was struck by the same leafy spice that his wife's sister wore like a perfume.

It was here that he found Martha.

To say that the storage room was huge was like saying there were many books in the Ingarian library. It was constructed of the same rich dark wood and white washed walls as the rest of the Healer's Wing. As he entered, Howl was struck by the sensation that he was in a garden of a different kind. The ceiling must have been at least five stories high and an immense double circular staircase sprouted from the middle of the room. Made of metal, which had patinaed ferny green under the rigors of time, the thing twined around itself in the same way a cluster of vines climbs a pole. The metal structure stretched straight up into the large glass ceiling, where it separated and spread outward like the limbs of a great tree to support the vaulted glass skylights that let in the sun outside. At each level a landing split the central space in two, running to the open balconies that encircled each floor. Every available space was filled with smartly arranged opaque crockery jars, pots and bottles, painted and marked with neatly colored labels that made absolutely no sense to the wizard.

For a split second the Wallmaker was reminded of the way that Sophie meticulously placed each dish and cup on the sideboard in the kitchen.

A series of couriers were hauling in large bags of herbs and other medical supplies through a large set of double doors to the left. They delivered the assorted items to several other healers, dressed in similar shades of green. The two women and a man were organizing the arrivals with the efficient scribbling of pens, while their younger assistants allocated the new supplies through a complicated system of weights, scales, bags, and barrels. The final products were delivered to the constant stream of the youngest apprentices, who scurried with their burden up one set of stairs only to come rushing empty handed down the other. The herbalist had the uncanny ability to make herself seem twice, even three times larger than her actual size. She was currently towering amongst the milling workers, directing their ebb and flow like a great tidal gate.

In spite of the fact, the room still dwarfed her.

However, the smoothly running operation came to a screeching halt the moment the wizard Howl stepped into the room. The tiny bells that each of the healers wore on their belts suddenly erupted into a clanging chorus of dissonant sounds that at once was painful and disquieting to the Wallmaker. As before, the sounds pierced at his mind like needles. Instantaneously, Martha and the other green garbed healers spun towards him, identical silver knifes appearing in their hands as his wife's sister dropped her tally board to rip a clear glass vial from her pocket. She made ready to cast it at him like a javelin just as the handsome sorcerer made a cutting motion with his hand.

The bells silenced.

The herbalist froze as she caught sight of him, going white as a sheet as the ampoule fell from her hand. As it shattered on the floor the cloying stench of agrimony wafted towards him. Before she recovered form her shock, Martha stared at him with such an unguarded look of abject dismay that Howl immediately knew something was wrong. But the green garbed woman was not easily rattled, and recovered quickly.

"It is the Wallmaker," She announced in a voice that reached the very rafters of the room as though that explained everything.

Briskly retrieving her tally board from the floor, she wordlessly handed it to one of the other healers. The woman immediately assumed her place as taskmaster and declared loudly, "Back to work!"

As the herbalist turned heel, swiftly exiting the room, all Howl could do was follow.

xXx

The conversation in the flying castle's kitchen did not go unnoticed.

After helping her brother dress, Shan had led Drie by the hand back into her parent's bedroom to return the favor. After finding another pair of black slacks and a white shirt for his sister, they began playing in their father's closet. Together they pretended the press was a great tangled jungle of shirt trees. The two of them became bold adventurers seeking treasure in their father's pockets.

At least they were until they heard the bell.

The sound of it brought back with a great rush a thousand things Drie somehow had managed to forget. Suddenly she realized that something was missing from the back of her mind. It was like her foot had fallen asleep and she could no longer feel it. The other's presence was distant and muted, almost stretched to the point where it barely existed at all. This thought sent a wild stab of panic through her almost as powerful as that which reared within her at the sound of the signal below.

"What's the noise? Ow, it hurts!" Shan winced as he poked his head out of the closet, but his sister reached out her long arms and yanked him to her. Abruptly, the sound stopped and her brother was about to begin a new set of questions when she clamped a hand over his mouth.

"Shhh!" She whispered urgently, and then let go of him as she listened intently to that which her brother could not hear. Suddenly, after what Shan felt was hours of silence, his sister flew out of the closet and went tearing out of their parent's room.

"Sister?" Shan cried and chased after her, realizing the girl had gone upstairs.

"Papa said not to go up there!" He called up the stairs as he caught a glimpse of the tall silver-haired girl's shadow on the landing. Clambering after her, he cautiously entered into the burned shop only to find his sister kneeling at the edge of a great blue circle of magic. Within it boundaries, sprawled with abandoned exhaustion, was the woman that looked like his sister but was not.

"Dreiddy… That's the monster!" He whispered loudly, creeping carefully to the edge of the barrier.

"She's not a monster, Shan. Her name is Door. She's me," the child-woman replied with hasty sorrow.

"Whatja mean she's you? Is she really?" Akarshan was shocked as he looked at the filthy broken creature in the circle.

"Yes, I guess… It's like Papa and Calcifer," her anxious words soon turned to anger, "They're going to take her away. They're going to hurt her. I can't let them do that, Shan."

"Who, Dreiddy? Whose gonna hurt her?" The little boy was suddenly right with her, afraid for the woman trapped by the magic.

"The blond wizard downstairs."

"You mean Uncle Barimus? He's here? But why would he want to hurt Door, sister?" Her raven-haired twin was suddenly conflicted.

"Because he doesn't understand it's not Door's fault," she replied quickly and then lowered her face to the ground so that it was level with the chimera's. The other was breathing, but it was like she was so deep in sleep she was out of even Deirdre's reach. What had their father done?

"Door? Door, can you hear me?" The silver-haired child-woman called anxiously.

"Someone's coming, Drie!" Shan cried.

Deirdre straightened her blue eyes wide with terror as she cast a glance at the doorway. The smell of powerful magic suddenly flooded up the stairs, causing the Wallmaker's daughter to act desperately. Whirling around, the tall half-human slammed her hands against the floor and the wood rippled like it was water. Suddenly the sapphire fire of Howl's circle magic winked out of existence, negated by the turbulence that his daughter unleashed. At that moment Nox appeared in the doorway to the shop. A wild tangle of magnesium starlight burned brightly about him, fueled by the otherwind that snatched at the hem of his indigo velvet cloak. His handsome tanned face twisted into a mask of troubled dismay and the amethyst of his eyes was alight with fire. The elder star reached for the child-woman with iron resolve as he spoke her name aloud like it was a spell that could hold her

"Deirdre!"

The man-daemon's name rose unbidden to the silver-haired girl's lips. Indeed, she froze as her eyes met his and she extended her hand towards the star. But in the same moment, Door's eyes flew open, exposing the endless night that filled their corridors. Faster than mortal eyes could see, the chimera whipped out her arms. As she snatched her sister and brother to her, a door to another place opened beneath them.

Sophie reached the top of the stairs just in time to watch her children sink out of sight.

xXx

The cold wind tore savagely at Earin's hair, making her eyes weep in spite of the grim expression on her face.

The soldiers had chained her to the floor in the middle of one of the airship's forward decks. It was a great open area in the nose of the humming metal beast, no doubt used as a flight deck for the insect-like sky crafts that buzzed like wasps around the ship. But that meant the level was exposed to the elements. Indeed Danna trembled violently from the bitter gale that brought on a bone-aching chill. The constant wind robbed from her broken body any semblance of warmth, just as the shackles bit cruelly into the skin of her hands and ankles. They rattled loudly as she shivered.

Not that any of the twenty red garbed men and women surrounding her at a distance had a care for her comfort.

The Ingarian Wizard's Guards stood in a ring around her, their efforts focused on keeping alive the bright copper fire of the magic red circle that surrounded her. Not that she needed it, there was no magic left in her. Even if the enchantment broke, she could barely move let alone escape. Her daemon was gone, and with it went the lingering remnants of the cold woman's power. Her captors literally had to carry her from the house above Porthaven, for Mrs. Danna did not have the strength to stand. The guards made it very clear what was in store for her in the future as they plucked from her hands the silver knife. Where the blade had gone she was not sure. As such, nothing was sure anymore. Perhaps she had misinterpreted the prophecy?

What if she had been wrong?

The thought brought such a horribly tightness to her chest she almost lost herself. If she was wrong, then the she was responsible for horrors she could not bare to carry. However, "what ifs" mattered little at this moment. As soon as they arrived at their destination, she was to be banished beyond the Dull Wall. If she was wrong, her sentence would be delivered shortly and she deserved every minute of the endless torment in the world beyond. But if she was right… And so the woman turned over her fate to the hands of the Doom she could see looming in the future like the great black storm clouds on the eastern horizon. Surprisingly, after she had done so, the cold healer realized she did not feel quite so helpless.

Perhaps she dozed, because when the grey eyed woman came back to her senses, the ship had begun to slow.

Sirens blared and in the distance she could hear the echoing footsteps of the ship's crew as they pounded overhead. As the craft came to a hover, Earin caught sight of other airships. The huge fleet of vessels glistened in the sunlight like monstrous beetles, their silver hulls painted with the royal arms. The horrible drone of their engines was appalling to Danna, just as the stench of burning rubber and fuel choked her lungs. However, her sight was not so blurred that she did not catch sight of the strange craft in the far distance beyond the Ingarian fleet. It was like someone had scooped a pile of metal junk from some scrap yard, shaped it into the semblance of a castle, slapped wings on it and set it aflight in the sky. The flying castle currently soared in front of the snow capped mountains of the Wastes. As Danna realized where she was, her consciousness slipped as the toll of that morning's journey caught up with her.

She returned to herself once more as a fleet of the droning air kayaks circled the deck before coming in to land. At once the former healer picked out the tall bristle-bearded man who rode one of three crafts that were painted as gold as the sun. It took her a moment to place the other two men, but it was not difficult to figure out who they were. As the engines of the crafts cut, a semblance of silence descended on the deck. The sea of soldiers, both mortal and magi, that accompanied the monarchs of the Alliance parted before King Ferdinand. All present saluted as the barrel-chested man strode forward, Prince Justin and King Walden just behind him.

"Land the ships and deploy the hunters!" The red bearded man commanded.

"Sir!" Replied the crowd of soldiers in union, as they dispersed in a great procession of orderly marching lines.

Soon all that remained were the circle of wizards, and the troupe of bodyguards that clustered around the monarchs of Ingary, Marda, and Tyrn. The three of them stood at the edge of the red magic circle for a long time. The ruler of Ingary wore an emotionless mask, although his green eyes were a riot of conflict, bright with recognition. Finally, Earin lifted her eyes to stare impassively at the man she had watched grow from a child to a man.

"So it's true," Ferdinand spoke in a brittle timber, having to pause to clear his throat as his normally strong voice broke.

"Are you judging me, Freddy? How like you, always the hypocrite." Earin spoke harshly, a cruel smile twisting her lips.

Her words seemed to wound the king, who was having difficulty reconciling the person before him with the woman he remembered. Mrs. Danna and her older sister Suliman looked a great deal alike. There had been affection between the late royal Sorceress and the King of Ingary; some whispered more than that since Ferdinand still remained unmarried. And although the monarch was shocked, his guards were not. A red garbed witch near the king's side stiffened at the daemon queen's voice and made ready to retaliate. But Ferdinand threw up his hand. The soldier froze.

"I could say the same for you… What has become of you, Earin?" Ferdinand spoke in a raw voice, his words soaked in sorrow.

"Earin Danna is dead," the cold woman spat venomously. Her words burned like acid, cutting like a double edged blade that opened old scars before twisting cruelly in the newly made wound.

"She died the day you allowed the Wallbreaker Agyrus to kill her husband and son! You remember them don't you, Freddy? Alistair and Aeden were quite fond of Suliman. They visited her often; no doubt you met them on many occasions."

"We are not to blame for Agyrus' madness. Nor are we at fault for the death your family," Prince Justin cut in with abrupt coolness, seeing his friend struck dumb by the prisoner's merciless words.

"Are you so sure, little prince? The Council knew about Agyrus' methods, but they did nothing out of fear! How are you any less to blame for allowing them to sit by and permit murder? And what about Suliman? Didn't she die because Ferdinand hesitated to make a decision?"

"And what of you?" Young King Walden cut in, his youthful face flushed with anger and his crown askew. Justin was forced to grab the young ruler's elbow as the man started forward in his passion. "How many have you killed… you… you blood-thirsty monster!"

"Such is the price I must pay to safeguard the future!" Danna half screamed, her grey eyes burning with righteousness.

"You know nothing of the doom I have seen and the taste of the suffering to come I have experienced. The means to avoid this fate one of your precious Councilor's wanted to sell off to the highest bidder. You are blind to the fact that the Council has broken under its greed and pride. Just as you were blind to the Darkness at work within Agyrus; by permitting them to exist you simply aided the undoing of our world. Through my work the second Wallbreaker will be revealed, but I won't allow him to live. Even if I have to kill every last magus, even if it means I have to sacrifice my very soul by turning to the Dark by taking the life of innocents, I won't let the Wall be broken again!"

"I will save this world and the next!" The former daemon queen thundered.

In that moment the airship landed on the ground with a great clattering creaking moan. After what seemed like ages, the engines sputtered to a halt, leaving only silence. In the echoing quiet, the distant buzzing of an air kayak could be heard.

"You're mad, Danna… You've already lost your soul," King Ferdinand spoke in a harsh voice as he turned away.

"Should we wait for the Royal Wizard?" King Walden asked uncertainly, fidgeting uncomfortably with his ermine lined robe.

"I see no need, I'm sure Barimus will be in accord with any decision we make," Prince Justin replied smoothly, reaching out to straighten the boy-king's crown. The pretty man then cast a side-ways glance at Ferdinand, who was staring into the distance with a brooding expression on his face. The large man pulled viciously at his moustache. After a long moment, the Ruler of Ingary let out a blustery sigh and nodded sharply. Immediately, the golden haired prince gestured to one of the guards at their side. The sorcerer, one of the higher ranking red garbed soldiers, stepped forward and snapped to attention as he drew out a scroll.

"The accused will rise for sentencing!" The soldier demanded. Danna, however, remained seated and the guard continued irregardless.

"Earin Danna, you have been judged by the King's Alliance and found guilty of murder, treason, and Dark sorcery. As one who has been touched by the Dark, you are hereby sentenced to be banished beyond the Dull Wall for as long as you shall live. Have you any last words?"

"We're doomed, every last one of us!" Danna spoke the words like an ultimatum: a prophecy in its own right.

The magi in the ring gathered their power to feed the circle magic and the crackling static of the enchantment made every hair on Earin's body stand on end. The former daemon queen felt light-headed, frozen with panic as she realized she was about to die. However, she was dumbstruck to feel the magic evaporate like a mist in the powerful dawn light. The sorcerers that ringed around her shuddered and cried out. Some even fell and scrambled backwards as they cast wild confused looks at one another.

Somehow, the red circle and the banishing spell had disintegrated.

"Wait!" Shouted a red haired man piloting a small sky kayak that fell from the sky. It landed with an abrupt bounce on the edge of the platform, but the wizard spilled straight into the air as he shot over to the kings.

"Dieter?" King Ferdinand growled angrily, "What's going on here?"

"I know not, Your Majesties," the twin replied quickly as he bowed deeply and then rose to salute, "I bring a message from Lord Councilor Barimus. He implores you to postpone the sentencing of the Daemon Queen. He says it's a matter of life and death for the Wallmaker's children."

"What?" Walden stammered in shock.

"What do you mean _the Wallmaker's children_?" Justin exclaimed.

"I beg your pardon, Majesties, but that is all I know. I was sent ahead. The Lord Barimus and the Silver Sorceress are on their way," the flush-faced Captain of the Wizard's Guard explained shortly.

"You haven't answered my question, Dieter!" Ferdinand replied curtly, twitching his moustache irritably, "Did you dissolve the banishing spell?"

"W-what, Your Majesty?" The freckle-faced man seemed shocked.

Suddenly, they were all distracted by a distant sound.

"Do you hear a bell ringing?" Walden asked curiously.

xXx

A portal jumped to life on the back step of one of the row houses in Chipping Market, expelling three figures into the dim empty alleyway. Immediately, Deirdre knew exactly where they were. This was the exact place where she had first met Akarshan, before she had lost her childhood to the hunger of the Dull Wall. Behind her was the house in which she had been raised by a woman she had once wanted to call mother. The same house where the creature she now called sister had killed a man.

"What happened?" Shan cried fearfully, casting his eyes about in confusion, "Where's the castle?"

"Why did you bring us here?" Drie demanded angrily trying to pull away from Door.

"NO!" The chimera half shrieked in terror, snaking her arm around the silver-haired child-woman's waist so she could clutch her sister and brother against her. Deirdre and Shan were stunned by the daemon's actions as Door hid her face in her sister's shirt, half slinging Akarshan over her shoulder.

"Don't leave me. Please don't leave me. If you do she'll find me and take me away again. She's gone from me now, but if you let go of me, she'll come back," Door babbled around hot tears of anguish.

"Who?" Shan asked in confusion, having to squirm in the daemon's arms to look at both halves of his sister.

"Mrs. Danna?" Deirdre spoke the name with horror and her brother paled as well.

"Yes… Yes… The star made her leave and the Wallmaker's magic kept her away. You let me out of the circle; you saved me from the bell and the mirror. But now green mother can find me again, but as long as I'm with you she can't."

"I don't understand," Akarshan cried in dismay.

"You are Wallmakers, that's why the circle that trapped me listened to you and let me out. You keep the circle's magic alive in me and I can hide from green mother in its shadows," Door mumbled incoherently.

"Can't we go to mamma or papa for help? Won't they be worried?" Shan asked fretfully.

"NO!" The half-daemon shouted, beginning to tremble, "Silver mother doesn't want me. I heard her! She left me with the Wallmaker and tried to give me away to the one with the mirror."

"It's alright, Door. We'll stay with you," Deirdre spoke with genuine concern as she hugged the damaged creature to her. Akarshan seemed to be in accord as well.

However Drie's answer was shaped by ulterior motives. She didn't want the other screaming incoherently in a back alley. The child-woman could feel that the village wasn't safe anymore; powerful magic were descending on this place. Almost in response to her thoughts, an air kayak like the one that the blond wizard had arrived on buzzed over them in the sky. Shrinking back into the shadows of the overhang, the child-woman realized they needed to stay hidden. That would be very hard to do with the other being covered in blood. Casting her eyes overhead, she caught sight of the clothes hanging on a line.

"Shan, can you get those down?" Drie asked brightly.

"Can I use magic?" Shan squealed breathlessly.

"Okay, but use as little as possible. It's a game, okay? We need to stay hidden and magic will give us away."

"A game? Yay!" Akarshan sang happily and clapped his hands, squirming in Door's grasp. The daemon was still pressed against Deirdre's chest as though the shirt was a powerful artifact that could hide them from the whole world.

"Silver sister, can you put Shan down?" Deirdre asked in a gentle voice. Hearing the special name Door used for her other seemed to rouse the chimera. She drew back and blinked red-rimmed eyes at her in surprise. After a moment the daemon seemed to understand and sat the little boy on his feet.

"Thanks, Door-sister!" Shan smiled up at her. He bounded down the steps to stand under the clothes line with an serious look on his face inconsistent with the six-year-old's normal behavior. Door looked after him with a stunned expression and Deirdre realized the half-daemon's nose was running horribly.

"Don't let anyone see you, Shan," The child-woman called to her brother as she ushered the other into the house.

"That's our brother," Door murmured like someone who was sleeping, trying to crane her neck to see the little boy as they went into the house.

Drie steered the daemon up the back stairway, not wanting to go into the shattered front room lest it upset them both. The house had not changed at all and there was plenty of soap in the bathroom. Mrs. Danna had always liked things clean. As she ran a tub full of hot water, Deirdre had difficulty explaining to Door that she had to let go and get into the bath. Eventually, the other settled for one of her sister's braids, which she clutched possessively like a leash as the child-woman scrubbed at the daemon's face and arms. The Wallmaker's daughter lied to herself in the moments that followed, saying that the brown caked onto her sister was just dirt. It was easy to get the stuff to wash away and once gone it was forgotten. Unfortunately, the snarled mess of her hair could not be salvaged; Deidre had neither the time nor the skill to detangle it.

"I'm going to have to cut it, Door," the child-woman spoke in dismay.

"It's just hair, silver sister," The chimera replied soberly, and then for some reason smiled brightly at her.

"I got them all, Drieddy!" Shan suddenly burst into the bathroom just as the silver sorceress' daughter made the last cut. Even through he was half buried under a pile of clothes, their twin peered around the sleeve of a shirt to look at the half-human. He took in the daemon's new haircut, which was just like his own and tossed his burden aside to clap his hands.

"Wow! That looks pretty, Door-sister."

The chimera touched her head curiously, running her fingers through her wet shoulder-length hair with one hand, all the while clutching Drie's braid with her other.

"What do you want to wear?" Shan asked suddenly, looking down at the pile of clothes at his feet. Door peered over the edge of the tub until her eyes fell on a red dress.

"I like that one," She pointed.

"Don't you want pants?" Drie asked curiously.

"No, I like that one," Door repeated with confidence.

Getting the other dry and dressed was an ordeal since she insisted on constantly being in contact with either Deirdre or Akarshan. The red dress was far too short for the daemon, falling to about her knees, but she smiled and played with the buttons happily. Together they piled onto the tiny narrow bed in the attic of the house where Drie used to sleep. It was strange to be in this house again; once it had been threatening and horrible. Now the close darkness in the room made it seemed safe and quiet. There was a triangular window of stained glass at the apex of the gables. Shan pushed it open letting in the light and wind as he gazed out at the airships that crowded the sky above the city. Door suddenly stiffened and cuddled closer to her sister as she pointed at a distant craft that approached from the west. The ship looked like it was making ready to land in the wastes.

"Green mother is there," she whispered in terror.

"Door," Drie began in a voice stronger than she felt, "How can we make Mrs. Danna let go of you?"

A thick silence followed and finally the other answered in a tiny voice.

"I have her heart… But if I gave it back we would be free of the bargain. But then I might have to go back to the burned place."

"You might?"

"I am bound to Danna by the terms of the pact. Once that is gone, so am I. But maybe not, for now I come from you as much as her. Perhaps I will stay."

Deirdre considered that solemnly, but then Shan spoke, "So you might not need her heart at all anymore, right?"

"Perhaps…" Door replied uncertainly.

"Sister, what were you before you went to the burned place?" The child-woman asked curiously, as though that piece in the puzzle of their lives might hold some clue to help them.

"A special mirror, a door mirror, _her_ mirror," she replied cryptically.

"What happened to you?" Akarshan asked curiously, sidling closer to his sisters before Drie could ask who _she _was.

"She cracked me when she saw for the first time. She was very strong: too strong. She saw too much and too far, and a little bit of the Dark got through the crack. I frightened her with what I showed her. I think the Dark touched her, because she was scared so badly she gave up the sight and sold me to some mortal from the North. Somehow I came here and that's when I met silver mother for the first time. But the Dark came through me again and I could not help it!"

Suddenly the other's voice was seething with hatred.

"When I finally broke_ he_ sent me to the burned place and I stayed there until she found me again. When she brought me back it was different. She was different. The Wallbreaker tried to purge the Dark from her by taking away her magic. But it broke her in ways that changed her. After that she needed me again, my magic and my power. But I was lost beyond the Wall. The price was the blood and flesh of the empty one who had taken her place with the old fat mortal. I was forced to wear her skin until she put me inside of you when you were old enough to open a door through the Wall."

"Who sent you to the burned place?" Deirdre asked, although she regretted it the moment she spoke.

"The Wallmaker," the other spoke in a flat voice.

"Papa sent you to the burned place?" Shan was incredulous and oblivious to the dangerous ground on which he was treading, "He would never do that!"

"He did!" Door smoldered wrathfully and as she blinked her eyes went black, "He must have sent me there! He was the last one I saw before the horrible red sky and the black sands of forever._ Hate him_!"

"Door!" Deirdre cried as Shan recoiled from the daemon in terror. The both sensed that the other was slipping away into the hate that crowded inside of her like the chorus of angry metallic voices that beat themselves against the Dull Wall, "Silver sister come back!"

"They're calling me…" Door murmured in horror, blinking rapidly as she seemed to struggle with herself, "I hate her, but Green mother saved me from the burned place. I don't want you to have to go there too, silver sister!"

"What do you mean?" Deirdre demanded, utterly confused by the chimera's prattling.

But Door fixed her other half with a gaze full of such dreadful certainty the child-woman felt her blood turn to ice.

"They're getting ready to send her beyond the Wall, sister. We can't let them. If she goes, we go too!"

The Wallmaker's daughter remembered all too well the horrible place beyond the charcoal bricks of the barrier that held back the Dark.

"The ship Mrs. Danna is on is here! It's landing on the hills above the city!" Shan cried, peering out the little window.

"What should we do?" Deirdre persisted in a terrified voice, shaking her other by the shoulders.

"Too late!" Door sobbed.

But the daemon seemed to have left herself. Her head lolled as she swayed slightly and to the child-woman's horror, the other's eyes faded to grey once more, but only for a moment.

"By her own hand and the blade of silver shall the childless green mother perish. And in that moment the Wallmaker shall become the Wallbreaker and all will be lost to the Dark Fire," The chimera spoke groggily as thought repeating something from a long time ago. But she blinked eyes that were blue once more as she surfaced from the madness within her. Door started forward by Shan as her keen sight fixed on something they could not see.

"They stopped them…" The daemon whispered and then pricked up her head to stare at the sky, "Silver mother?"

"Wait! I see the castle!" The raven-haired twin called out in surprise s he squeezed next to Door to peer outside.

Suddenly the sapphires jewels that hung from Deirdre's ears and the pendent around Akarshan's neck pulsed brightly like a lighthouse's guiding fire.

"Mom is looking for us!" Shan announced in surprise as he held up his necklace.

"Something's wrong," Door spoke ominously, still looking out the tiny window.

The daemon sniffed the air and stiffened as though she were listening to something. Indeed, Deirdre felt it as well. Softly at first, as though it were possibly a just the figment of their imaginations, there came a sound. Suddenly, like a wave crashing over them, the ringing of hundreds if not thousands of bells drowned village. And with the clanging came an army of spirits who flooded the city as they spilled down the hills from the wastes. Elementals and whirling wisps swirled around the twins, thick as a fog and charged like static. But the spirits were not touched by the Dark; these were the children of the ancients and the daemons were projecting thoughts of violent retribution. As suddenly as it came, the deafening chorus of bells silenced as though cut short against their will.

In that moment an earthquake of horrific magnitude tore Chipping Market apart.

xXx

Theresa was moping again.

She had swept the room, washed the windows, packaged up all the herbs Martha had left for her to process, straightened the bed linens, and drank five cups of tea. Currently she was fiddling with the small circle of glass that was embedded into the shaft of the garden hoe Markl had made for her. The feather trapped beneath it reminded her of a moment frozen in time. Perhaps she should go for a spin around the greenhouse gardens, flying always made her feel better. No, she didn't want to leave Markl. Besides, everyone had bells on now, and her garden hoe would make them ring.

Besides, what if he woke up?

Instead, she brooded on the fact that Mrs. Danna had been captured. Good! Perhaps now all of this madness about daemons and destruction would settle down. Perhaps she and Martha could move out to Mrs. Fairfax's house and set up shop again? The freckle-faced girl really missed her mistress' teacher; the plump old witch was ever so kind. Plus, Theresa loved to wander in the waste; things felt so alive and wild in the moors. It would be perfect! Barimus could set up the portal magic for them and they could be together in spite of the distance. I was a wonderful dream, but the red-haired girl seriously doubted it would ever come true. Martha was too deeply entrenched in her work at the capital to leave.

With a sigh the green-eyed girl leaned forward on the foot of her friend's bed and sank her face into her hands. Theresa was so entrenched in her misery that she had not noticed that the sun that was shining so brightly earlier that morning was slowly blotted from the sky. Shadows crept into the room as an errant wind tangled the curtains.

Suddenly, the Wallmaker's apprentice gasped and sat bolt upright in bed.

"Markl!" Theresa screamed with incredulously joy, clutching her garden hoe in her hands.

But with a stab of disappointment that slowly melted into fear, she realized the young wizard was not looking at her. He was staring with wide eyes at the ceiling. And his normally golden-brown eyes were as black as night.

Just like a daemon's.

To her absolutely horror the bell on Theresa's belt began ringing, but it was not a singular sound. It was like every bell in the city was ringing in her ears. At that same moment, the Wallmaker burst into the room half dragging Martha behind him by the hand. Words must have been exchanged between them, because the stone-faced woman looked just as unhinged as her brother-in-law. As soon as the herbalist entered the room, the bell at her waist began sounding clamorously. The look of mad terror on the tall sorcerer's face melted from relief to abject shock as he caught sight of his son. Markl lowered his eyes to regard the raven-haired man, whose posture shifted subtly to a tense stance of one on guard. The foreign presence within the boy seemed to study the keeper of the balance, judging him in the same way a gambler weights the odds before casting his bets.

It appeared that the verdict remained undecided.

"What do you want?" Howl demanded in a low voice that echoed with power.

"The mortals have disregarded our warning, Wallmaker. They invaded the wastes. They unbalance the two worlds. Our truce is broken," intoned a chorus of voices.

The song of the ancients burned in their ears like a rain that falls as fire to an earth that crumbles to mists.

"We are all part of the balance. It cannot be restored through violence," The raven-haired man tried desperately to explain rationality to an irrational being, "Can we not work together as once before?"

"Too late! It has begun," The beings spoke out of Markl, but the boy's lips did not move. The words seemed to resonate from all around and deep within him.

Instantaneously, the bells silenced and the apprentice let out a small cry as he slumped backwards against the pillows.

"Wait!" Howl cried.

But the ancient chorus was gone as soon as the man was at his apprentice's side, pulling the boy against him. Markl gasped hoarsely blinking eyes that were brown like wet clay as he clutched at his father's sleeve.

"They're here!" The young wizard gasped.

As soon as the boy spoke the ground heaved beneath their feet. The ceiling split above them, raining down shards of glass and debris as a screaming wind infiltrated the room with such power it dashed all standing from their feet. Fingers of sky reached into the shattered room, trying to snatch them up into the great maelstrom of black clouds that boiled overhead.

**To be continued in _The Broken Wall: Part V of the Wallmaker Saga_**


End file.
